But I can’t.
My lungs won’t obey.
Every breath stutters, catches, breaks.
It’s like drowning upright.
Old memories slam into me, uninvited and fucking merciless.
The phone call.
The flashing lights.
The silence afterward that swallowed everything.
I’m that young boy again, alone and falling apart just like this, with Queenie trying to help me in this same suffocating helplessness.
Feeling as though I lost it all.
Feeling as though nothing would ever be the same again.
“I lost her.” The words tear out of me, shredded and jagged. “Queenie, I lost her… Marley, I lost her, and it’s my f-fault.” My voice cracks, it splinters. I sound like that wounded teenager I’ve tried so hard not to be anymore.
I grip my hair, pulling tight enough to hurt, because the physical pain is the only thing grounding me in my own body.
“Shh.” She squeezes my shoulder, her own voice shaking but steady enough to hold me. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you. Just stay with me, Nitro. Stay right here.”
But the panic keeps climbing, squeezing, crushing.
A buzzing fills my ears, white noise, static, drowning out everything else. My hands tremble so violently that I can’t keep them still. My throat feels too tight, my chest too small.
Time unravels.
Seconds feel like hours.
Minutes feel like days.
And Queenie stays right here through all of it, her hand warm and firm on my shoulder, murmuring my name, reminding me I’m here, I’m safe, I’m not lost even though it feels like I am.
Eventually, slowly, painfully, my breathing starts to find a rhythm again. The buzzing fades. My vision sharpens. My heartbeat eases from a frantic pound to something human again.
The world settles back into focus one piece at a time.
Finally, when I can speak without choking, I drag a trembling hand over my face, swallow hard, and slowly look up at my grandmother.
The one constant in my life.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”
Her hand gently caresses my cheek as her opaque eyes meet mine. “Damon, you have taken care of me yourentirelife, and I love you more thananythingin this entire world. Ineverwant you to think you should hide your emotions from me. We’ve been through too much, you and me. You hear me, boy?”
A weak smile finally touches the side of my lips. “I hear you.”
Her hands grip mine, and she inhales sharply. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you, and don’t hold anything back. Because you brought up your parents, and you haven’t talked about their passing in a long time. So, whatever this is, it’s got you all messed up. So, talk to me.Reallytalk to me.”
Closing my eyes, I let out a long exhale, feeling every ounce of shame hit me again. But Queenie reaches out, gripping my chin, pulling my face toward hers. My eyes open instinctively as she glares at me. “Damon Blackwell, you start talking right now, young man.”
Swallowing a lump down my throat, I nod, and she moves her firm grip from my chin to cup my cheek in a more supportive, tender caress. “Queenie… I love her. And I think I just lost her because I lied to her,” I say, my voice wrecked. “About who I am. About the money. About everything that matters. And when she found out, she looked at me like I was a stranger. Like every moment we had together was fake.”
