Using the arm that still worked despite the pain, I called the next person I could think of. Archer.
The longer the ringing tone went on, the more it sounded like a siren warning of my damnation. It rang out. My lungs shrank in my aching chest. I tried again. Again, it rang out. I sobbed. My lungs betrayed me further, as if they hadn’t done that enough. I struggled to draw in a breath.
Don’t panic. Keep it together. Panicking won’t help you.
I tried Archer again. It rang out.
I was lightheaded, my chest jerking with every breath half inhaled, twice exhaled.
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.
Who else could I call? My mind was blank, shutting down beyond the basics needed to survive.
Don’t pass out. Breathe.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“What color are my eyes?”Archer’s voice from my memories, from another time my life as I knew it had changed and I’d spiraled until he brought me back. I tried to picture Archer’s eyes. Couldn’t. They’d faded with everything beyond the pain and the body in front of me.
But there was another face I could picture. One I’d never forget.
“What color are his eyes?” I asked myself as I closed my own and thought of Benny. “Brown.”Inhale. “What kind of brown?” I exhaled on every word. Inhaled again. “They’re… the color of… dark leather.”Inhale. “Chestnuts.”Exhale. “Hot espresso.”Inhale. “Chocolate box cakes.” Like ones I used to make with Logan.
Benny’s eyes were the color of comfort. Safety. Warmth. Of the closest thing I’d known to home.
“My favorite scent is…”
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
“Him.” Warm. Grounding. Soft. Vanilla and sandalwood.
As I shivered from the cold, I thought of his warmth. His color. How it felt to have his arms around me.
When I opened my eyes, my cheeks were damp, but I could breathe a little easier. I could think a little clearer.
I tried Archer again. When the call rang out again, I called the only other person I believed could help me. The only other one who seemed reliable. Coyote.
The phone rang. And rang. The line timed out.
Breathe.
I tried again. It rang. And rang.
“Yeah?” a sleepy voice grumbled as the line picked up.
Hope shattered me, the calm façade I was attempting to maintain to deceive myself instantly crumbling. “Coyote,” I sobbed. “I need you to help me. Please. I can’t get in contact with Archer and I… I did something bad. It was self-defense. I wasn’t thinking. I can’t fix this myself. I don’t know what to do!”
“Whoa there, calm down, Little Snake Prince.”
“He tried to hurt me. He hurt my brother. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get away, and he wouldn’t let me and now—”
“Okay, stop. Don’t say anything else.”
Panic. “Please. I’ll do anything, please—”
