“Don’t make me think, Sable.”
On a good day, I can understand most of her Spanish, but right now, I can barely understand my own thoughts. They’re racing too fast for me to decipher. All I can do is feel pure fucking anxiety because of the pile of plastic body parts behind me.
It’s like my lungs have grown paranoid and revere oxygen as toxic, battling with my brain on accepting the poison.
“I’m coming to you now,” she says sharply, likely sensing the turmoil in my voice. “Are you in your room?”
“Mhm. Dummy chopped up. Bring stuff,” I mumble, hoping like hell she can figure out what the fuck I mean.
“Are you fucking kid—” She cuts herself off to go on a tirade in Spanish with the occasional English word mixed in.
I don’t bother paying attention, and instead, I put all my focus on coercing my lungs to just fuckingexpand.
At some point, she clips out that she’s on her way, then the line goesdead.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I force myself to stand on shaky legs and open the CDCR website, my heart thudding heavily. It only takes thirty seconds to get to the site and type in his inmate number.
In custody.
Somewhere deep down, I’m relieved. But despondence encases my brain, like a thick shell squeezing it and rendering it incapable of feeling anything else.
I’m just… so fucking sad.
Defeated, I toss the phone on my bed, then peel off the cold, damp clothing from last night, wrap a robe around my shivering, clammy body, and trudge to the showers.
The second I’m standing beneath the hot water, I tackle the Sharpie staining my skin, scrubbing at the numbers until my flesh is bright red and rubbed raw. Even with only faint remnants of the ink remaining, the dates are just as bold as when he first wrote them.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, I lift my face to the stream and hold my breath. Except, the silence invites in the events of last night. My throat tightens as I try to wrestle away the memories and focus on counting. However, I'm unable to control the sob from bubbling up my throat, bursting my control and causing me to release my breath after only seventy-eight seconds.
I slap a hand over my mouth, desperately trying to breathe through the unbending urge to bawl my eyes out. My sinuses burn, and my body jerks from the sobs forcing their way to the surface until I have no choice but to give in, my face crumpling as low whimpers leak through my clenched teeth and into my palm.
I drop into a crouch, holding my stomach with one arm while my other hand continues to firmly cup my mouth. Then I bow my head and cry.
For how long, I'm unsure, too lost in agony and turmoil to have any bearing on the time.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, awareness of my surroundings creeps in, and I pray no one walks in and hears me. It triggers my instincts to battle down the storm of emotions and bloody memories plaguing me until I can shove them all into a dusty bin in the backside of my brain where they can fester in the darkness with the rest of mytrauma. It takes a few minutes until I'm successful, but once the tears recede, I drop my hand as I lift my head back toward the spray, inhaling one last time before I restart my count.
My lips continue to wobble, like the emotions left behind a stain, but I make it to two hundred and two before my lungs burn, and I'm physically unable to hold it any longer without instincts taking over.
I release my breath, my head spinning as I tilt my face away from the water so I can focus on breathing.
I beat my previous record, but it feels abysmal when I realize I have Dread to thank for it.
Defeated, I stand and wash my hair before stepping out and quickly scurrying back to my dorm, a towel wrapped around my damp body. It's a small win no one came into the showers or lingered in the halls to see my red, puffy eyes.
I step into my room, keeping the mess firmly out of my vision as I slip on fleece-lined sweatpants and a matching pullover sweater.
I’ve just sat on the side of my bed and finished pulling on fuzzy socks when Sable comes flying into my room. I jump, my heart practically flying into outer space.
Admittedly, the suddenness of her arrival is slightly triggering after last night, which only amplifies the dangerous cocktail of anxiety and adrenaline swirling in my veins. I bring my knees up to my chest, tuck my head down, and wrap my arms around them, rocking back and forth as I try not to descend into another panic attack.
She didn't even bust through the door aggressively, but I'm so on edge, an actual fly buzzing in probably would've sent me into a spiral just as easily.
Vaguely, I hear Sable’s sharp intake of breath, a few curse words, and then her footsteps rushing toward me.
“Come here,cariño,” she coos, stopping before me and bringing me into her warm embrace, my forehead resting against her stomach as her orange blossom scent envelops me.
“You know what to do. Breathe in, and breathe out,” she coaches softly.
