“Okay. Hey, okay. Hold on, I’m right here.”
The handle rattled from the other side.
Nausea rolled over me.
Trapped.
You’re trapped.
“No, no, no.”
Not again.
My fists rained down against the wood. “Get me out,” I choked. “Get me out, get me out, get me out.”
“Hey. Hey, I’ve got you.” Rhys swore. “This isn’t forever, okay? We’re gonna get you out.”
My head shook hard. “Rhys!”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” The handle rattled again, harder this time. “Give me a second.”
“I can’t—” My breath broke, hands dragging down the door before coming back up again. “I can’t?—”
“You can,” he cut in, sharp enough to break through the spiral for half a second. “Youcan, Arch. I need you to breathe for me, alright? In. Out. Stay with me.”
The inhale caught halfway, and then splintered, like my lungs forgot how to finish the job.
My vision blurred at the edges, the walls folding inward instead of staying where they were supposed to be.
No.
I slammed my forehead against the door, choking.
Not here.
Not again.
My body didn’t care what year it was.
It dropped me back anyway—listening to the house breathe around me, every locked door a rule I wasn’t allowed to break
Don’t go outside.
Don’t open the front door.
Don’t leave.
My chest seized.
“I can’t?—”
The buzzing in my arms spread, sharp and electric, down into my hands, up into my shoulders. My whole body was trying to run without anywhere to go.
“Arch—hey—hey, listen to me.”
His voice cut through, closer now, right at the door.
“I’m right here, okay? You’re not stuck like that. This isn’t the same.”
