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He threaded his fingers through mine and gave my hand a little squeeze. “Are you okay with me holding your hand while we do this?” he asked and then looked at Harper before shifting his gaze to Dev and Birdie. “Is that okay?” he inquired.
“I think we might have to,” Dev said, and Larken nodded.
Harper returned to her spot by the metronome in front of us, and Pax squeezed my hand again and then settled back against the cushions. I did the same, wiggling myself down until I was comfortable. There was still a bit of an internal . . . pushing going on, for lack of a better way to describe it, but I did feel more at ease, and the strange whispers had quieted.
“Okay,” Harper said, her voice melodious and soothing. “I want you both to close your eyes again and focus on the sound of my voice and the ticking of the metronome in the background. Feel your bodies sinking into the cushions. Feel each toe relaxing, one after the other. Feel your ankles loosen. Feel the muscles of your calves get heavy. Notice how your thighs unclench and become weightless.”
She took a breath. “Breathe deeply with me as your glutes and hips and lower back release any and all tension you may be holding there. Feel your middle and upper back first clench and then relax as your body feels warmer. Heavier. The muscles in your shoulders and biceps and arms and hands become so heavy, you can barely feel them where they lay. Notice how the muscles in your neck lengthen and loosen, making your head heavy. Let it droop as all tension leaves your face. Unclench your jaw and feel the lines in your forehead smooth, your lips parting.”
I breathed deeply as she instructed and felt warm and heavy and content. I still felt a bit of a rustling in my chest, as if anxiety wanted to rise from somewhere but couldn’t, but it was negligible now and easily ignored.
“Your body is warm and heavy. You’re sinking into the couch, feeling relaxed and calm and safe. Let your mind drift,” Harper instructed. “Let your thoughts go to a place where you are open to suggestion, knowing that you are cared for and looked after. Safe. That the things you are instructed to do will not hurt you. How do you feel?” she asked.
Pax and I answered. I honestly wasn’t sure what either of us said, but I know we replied.
“Okay, when I count to five, you will be receptive to the magic that Dev and Larken do. You will feel comfortable and accepting. You have free will to withdraw and wake up if anythingdoesn’tfeel right to you. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I murmured.
I sat there, breathing deeply, feeling light, weightless, and open—almost oblivious to everything but how great I felt now after weeks of feeling like garbage.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” Harper counted, and I felt myself relaxing even more. Floating. I wondered if I was even still awake. Was I dreaming?
“Okay, open your eyes,” Harper instructed.
I did as she said and felt utterly relaxed and yet hyper-focused. Almost like those moments right after a really great massage—or good sex. It was amazing.
“Wow, girl,” I said. “You should totally do that more often and charge the big bucks for it. That was better than a day at the spa.”
Harper smiled, and Pax squeezed my hand. “You feel good?” he asked.
“I feel freaking fantastic,” I said and grinned.
“Yeah, I feel pretty great, too.”
I looked up at Dev and Birdie. “Are you guys going to do your thing now?” I asked.
Dev smiled, and Lark laughed a bit. “We already did,” Dev said, and Birdie nodded.
“Wait.” I felt my brow furrow. “You already did your . . .”—I flapped my free hand—“whatever the hell you were doing?”
“Yep,” Birdie said and walked over to a sideboard to pour some water from a pitcher. “We’re all finished. You guys are good to go.” She returned to us with two glasses of water, and Pax and I each moved to accept one. Pax let go of me—and the world dropped out from under me. Just like the glass in my hand.
Intense, cataclysmic pain ripped through my head and chest, making both seize and stealing my breath. I curled in on myself and grabbed at my skull. The voice was back, louder than ever, and yelling hateful things now. Telling me to do things that I would never even think, let alone contemplate, even on my worst days.
I heard a scream. I didn’t know if I had screamed or if it was someone in my head. All I knew was pain. Rage.Hate. I heard a growl and worried that it came from me, but I didn’t know which way was up right now, let alone what the hell was happening. I heard more glass shattering somewhere. Heard banging and crashing and thumping. My eyelids felt glued together, and I registered the discomfort of having my eyes squeezed shut so tightly. I was totally unable to pry them open, even to see what was going on.
I thrashed. Threw punches. Snapped and snarled. I knew that much, but I didn’t know why and I couldn’t stop myself. I felt as if someone else were controlling my body. My mind. My voice.
I didn’t know how long any of it took or how much time had passed. It felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. Suddenly, I registered a subtle pressure on my shoulder and then . . .
Nothing.
* * *
I wokewith my head pillowed by a lap and looked up to see four people standing around me, looks of extreme concern on their faces.
“What—?” I started, my voice cracking, and my throat dry and sore. I tried again. “What the hell just happened?” I asked.
