Page 7 of Perfect Chaos

Getting carried out of Elixirs thrown over Gavin’s shoulder, then proceeding to throw up in front of both of them was not on my bingo card for how tonight would go. I also didn’t expect a fight to break out, or for Atlas to have been the one throwing the punches. I know it’s fucked up, but a tiny part in the back of my brain gets giddy at the fact Mister Control will always lose control for me. I know it’s not a healthy reaction, but after going through life begging for scraps of love and grasping onto the bare minimum from people, the full force of his affection feels otherworldly.

Atlas helps me into the backseat and I relax against the window with my eyes closed. I am almost asleep when my palms begin to sweat. Fear begins to creep up my spine and I jump up into a sitting position.

Something's wrong. I know something is about to happen.

My heart is pounding.

The rapid thumping begins to echo in my head, a swooshing sound accompanying it.

It feels like my head is underwater.

My chest tightens.

I try to suck in air, but my lungs refuse to inflate.

Short, shallow breaths escape in rapid succession.

Fuck I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?

The car interior is shifting between the one I am sitting in and a different one entirely. The feelings of impending doom become so overwhelming I begin to claw at the skin on my arms to see if the feeling will leak out. I just want it to stop.

I try to move.

I try to grab the door handle, but my body won't budge.

I don't have control of my body; my fear does.

I still can’t breathe.

No matter how fast I try to suck in air, I get nothing.

It feels like trying to drink through a straw with a hole in it.

Someone's face is in front of mine. Their lips are moving, but I cannot hear what they are saying. My focus is going in and out. He is in front of me one moment and gone the next. My vision feels fractured.

I see bright lights. I brace for what comes next. The sound of metal hitting metal assaults my ears, yet it’s quieter than I expected.

Warm lips crash against mine, catapulting all of my focus into the single sensation. Everything else around me fades away. I squeeze my eyes shut. My breath catches in my throat; instead of fighting to expel any air, I let it stay trapped in my chest. The swooshing in my ears subsides and I use the moment to push my lips harder against the ones touching mine. The kiss is brief. It tastes of desperation.

They pull back, breaking the kiss. My eyes flutter open and immediately collide with frantic honey brown ones.

Gavin apologizes almost immediately. He somehow looks panicked and defeated at the same time. I tell him it’s okay; I’m fine. I’m not sure how true the words are but they leave my mouth anyway. Pretty sure my panic attack is a clear warning I’m far from okay, but what else are people supposed to say after they have a panic attack? No one wants me to actually tell them how bad I am spiraling.

As soon as my mind catches up and I realize I am, in fact, not dying, all my remaining energy fades. I slump against the window and drift to sleep.

Chapter Six

Maizyn

After my panic attack, I was dead to the world. I don't know what time it is, but I'm tucked into Atlas’ side, dressed in nothing but his shirt again. I know he had to have changed me when we got home. He probably carried me inside as well. My entire body aches. It feels as if I have been hit by a truck. I want to hide under the covers, go back to sleep, and ignore the world around me. I have done a version of the same thing for three weeks already. I climb out of bed slowly, wincing at the pressure in my head. I definitely drank too much last night. I am hungover, but it’s more than that. I've read about panic attack hangovers; this is the first time I've had one bad enough to feel the side effects. Add in all the drinks, and I am surprised I am even alive right now. I maneuver myself into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

If I stayed in bed any longer, the mental fog would win. This feeling sucks, but it’s one I’m all too familiar with. I was diagnosed with high-functioning depression when I was a kid. While I have gotten a hell of a lot better at coping with it, I still have bad days. Hell, bad months at this point. I wouldn’t say I was suicidal exactly. I still think about how easy it could be. I still play out the scenarios in my head, but that's as far as it’s gotten in a long time. I haven’t thought about actually going through with it for a few years now.

I already know Atlas is going to want to talk about what happened last night. He has been giving me plenty of space recently, but I know something as scary as this won’t be overlooked. It’s fucking embarrassing. I can’t even ride home from the bar without falling apart. Gavin had to kiss me to break me out of it. Will I always be such a fucking mess? I have been keeping everything bottled up. Trying to act like everything is fine after getting kidnapped and finding out I lost some of the best memories of my life is slowly fucking breaking me. What do you do when you want to scream for help but are too afraid to ask for it?

Atlas

My arms stretch out, patting the area next to me where Maize should be. The sheets are cold. I sit up in a panic. She was here when I fell asleep; I know because I carried her inside and changed her clothes. As soon as I laid down next to her, I wrapped my body around her like a shield. I fell asleep counting her heartbeats and watching the rise and fall of her chest. I wanted to give her the space and time she needed before I asked her about the accident, the kidnapping, Trevor, everything that happened from the time she left Lucky’s bar all those months ago.