Page 28 of Psycho

But I was in the middle of a manic episode and too restless to touch a single bite of it.

Arrow found me in the bathroom, with steam billowing in the air. I stood before the mirror in only my tank top and jeans, with a towel draped around my shoulders. My hair was a wet, stringy mess.

“Bobbie, honey, what are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.

“I found a box of hair dye under the sink.” Grabbing the box, I turned it toward him. “Look. It’s electric blue. No offense, but I doubt you boys would be able to pull off this color. So, I thought I’d give it a go.”

Arrow stared at me for a moment. He set the tray of food aside on the table.

“A club bunny probably left it behind. It’s all yours.”

“Perfect,” I chirped.

“When I left, you were almost asleep,” he pointed out. “And now you’re…”

“Manic,” I finished for him, lifting a limp strand of hair to examine the dye job. “I know. The stress most likely set me off. I feel like I could run ten miles, and I haven’t even had a drop of coffee yet.”

“You’re not going anywhere near caffeine.”

I stuck my lip out in a mock pout.

“You never let me have any fun.”

Arrow chuckled and stepped closer, leaning his hip against the counter. Sliding one finger under my chin, he tilted my head up to meet his eyes.

“Every time you get the urge to change your hair color, you’re usually itching to run away.”

I huffed with frustration and pulled back, sticking my head under the faucet to rinse out the dye. It’s like Arrow had X-ray vision or something. He could see right through me.

When I woke up, it felt like I had a belly full of bees, buzzing with anxiety. The insatiable urge to leave—just go—made my muscles tense and my teeth clench.

The logical part of my brain recognized that this was a trigger. I didn’t want to leave Arrow. But so much had happened in such a short span of time that my brain and my nervous system were overloaded.

Living with mental illness was a strange experience sometimes. Like watching a speeding train, careening closer with every passing second. I knew I needed to stop it, but actually managing to do that was the tricky part.

After rinsing my hair, I wrapped it in a towel. Then I started scrubbing the bathroom. The sink was a mess, pockmarked with watery blue dye, and my clothes were piled on the floor, and we were stuck in this goddamn clubhouse until further notice. Dear God, I was going to lose my mind if I had to stay in this room another second longer.

“Bobbie, honey,” Arrow said gently.

He came up behind me, wrapping his hands around my wrists so I would stop cleaning.

“Why don’t you take a break and eat a few bites—”

I shook my head, twisting away from him.

“Not right now. I made a mess and I really should get it cleared up and…”

“Bobbie, it’s okay,” Arrow whispered in a voice that had me blinking back tears. He was so damn patient with me. “Leave the mess. We’ll worry about it later.”

I fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re so hot when you talk me through my mental breakdowns.”

He breathed a faint laugh, sliding his arms around my waist.

“I’d do anything to make you feel better, baby. You know that.”

I arched an eyebrow.