Panic attacks are a motherfucker. And this one’s shaping up to be a goddamn event.
Ezra rounds the bed, his hands up while his shadows coil at his back, flickering with unease. They’re bracing for rejection, too.
“This isn’t what it looks like, Aurora. I promise. Y-you were screaming in your sleep, clawing at your neck. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, you would cause further harm to yourself. I’m so sorry. If you want me to leave, I will.”
My knees hit the floor, a violent sob ripping from my chest.
My body folds in on itself, too tight, too small, too fucking broken.
My sobs collapse into screams. No words. Just broken sounds tearing out of me.
Jameson is gone, but what he took from me lingers, gnawing at the edges of my mind, warping my own reflection. I can’t even trust what I see anymore.
My screams fade into ragged, broken breaths.
The silence that follows isn’t soft. It’s swollen and tender, my screams still clinging to the walls.
He’s gone. Of course, he’s gone.
But when I finally force my eyes open, Ezra is still there, sitting on the floor.
Not close. Not far. Just waiting.
A hesitant smile ghosts across his lips. He seems uncertain, maybe a little shy. Like one wrong move might shatter whatever trust I have left.
“Are you well, Aurora?”
His head cocks to the side, reminding me of his strange canine form.
“No. But I’m sorry I lost my temper, Ezra. That dream was so vivid.”
Shit. It feels like I deep-throated a cactus and chased it with battery acid. I’m still curled up in a tight ball on the floor and my body feels so heavy I’m not sure I can even stand.
“There is no need to apologize, Aurora. Perhaps my method of restraining you was a bit aggressive, but you were bleeding, and I was … scared.”
“I understand, Ezra. Thank you for staying with me. I should probably get back to bed.”
I push off the floor but only succeed in lifting the upper half of my body. I’m out of breath and my arms shake with the effort of keeping myself upright.
“W-would you like some help, Aurora? Maybe a hand? Or I could carry you?”
The thought of standing on my own makes me feel woozy. Walking sounds like a goddamn nightmare.
“Would you carry me, please?”
“Whatever you need, Aurora.”
Ezra rises slowly, clearly afraid that one wrong step might shatter what’s left of me.
“I’m going to place one of my arms under your knees and the other under your back. Then I will lift you, place you on the bed, and cover you up.”
He’s narrating. Telling me every step before he touches me. He’s giving me control, giving me space to stop him if I need to. The realization unknots something in my chest.
“Okay. I’m ready when you are.”
Ezra picks me up, touching me exactly where he said he would. His eyes stay locked on mine, looking for any signs of distress.
When he lifts me, I barely register wrapping my arms around his neck. My head falls against his shoulder, the scent of pine and cinnamon settling over me, quieting the twitch of something that feels alive under my skin.
