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Kicking the door of the gym, I stride inside, and of course I’m so lost inside my mind that I forgot Cassie works here now.
She looks up from the computer on the reception desk, her eyes going round. Before she can say anything or even stand up, I turn around and head right back out. Okay, coming here was a shitty idea.
Can’t stand to see the pity and horror in her eyes. Not today.
The bar it is.
***
After a few drinks, I head back to the apartment. My hand’s in my pocket, around my cell. Every few steps I jerk around, sure someone’s following me. The urge to call Seth, or anyone for that matter, is eating at my self-control.
And then what? What will I tell them? That I thought someone was following me, although there’s nobody behind me?
They’ll know I’ve gone around the fucking bend for good.
And they’ll be right. Reality isn’t very stable right now—it keeps tipping into the past, memory weaving a web around me. I think I smell the moldy mattresses and sour sweat of fear that filled the prison. I think I hear the shouts and groans of pain from the brawls. I think I see Marco and Christoph leering at me from street corners.
Fuck.
I hurry up the stairs, slam the door shut behind me, double lock, then check all the rooms, and still my heart won’t stop pounding.
Holy fucking shit. Wincing, I sink down on the couch and press a hand to my chest. I can’t catch my breath. Last thing I need today is a panic attack.
Had everything else already, fuck you very much, life.
I try to remember what the prison therapist told me one of the few times I was sent to see her. The times I barely remember, black holes that came and went after I woke up one day in a pool of my own blood.
Only I can’t recall what she said, not when my head is spinning and my stomach roiling and the certainty I’m gonna die here, alone, is filling my mind. I hunch in on myself, every shadow in the apartment growing and reaching for me.
Oh fuck, I can’t breathe.
I’m so far gone, I think the pounding I hear is inside my head, but then the doorbell rings, too, and stupid as it sounds, it cuts through the fog of panic.
Uncurling from the sofa, I stumble to the door and check through the peephole.
Cassie?
Is this real?
Still can’t catch my breath. My hands shake so badly, I fumble with the locks, but manage to unlock after a few tries, and cautiously open the door.
“Shane.” Her eyes are red-rimmed, and I frown. “Look,” she says, waving her hands about nervously, “I wasn’t going to come, because this is your place, and you have the right to be alone if that’s what you want, or with whomever you like, okay? Have the right to have your space, and I know I keep intruding in other people’s privacy, but I saw you at the gym and…”
I’m leaning on the doorframe, and I can’t for the life of me move back when she steps closer.
Nor would I want to. In her jeans and long coat, her long hair loose, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I blink to clear the black edging into my vision.
“God, what happened?” she whispers and reaches for me, then seems to think better of it and draws her hand back. “You don’t look so hot.”
I remember her hand on my hair, on my face, and God, I need her touch. It kills me I scared her off so much she won’t come near me.
“Cassie…” I push off the doorframe, intent on returning back inside, but everything spins, and I stumble sideways.
Her arms are around me in an instant, without hesitation, and my breath catches at the relief, the unexpected sense of safety and warmth.
“Don’t fall,” she whispers, and I hear so much more in those two words. I want to drag her to the couch, curl up with her, wrap myself around her and let her put me back together.
