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They really do treat Josiah differently, and sure maybe he doesn’t live a traditional lifestyle, but the way he lives makes him happy and gives him the opportunity to feel safe. He wouldn’t feel that way if he lived the way Rhett does. He shouldn’t be treated like there’s something wrong with him because he does what he has to to stay safe.
Whatever the fuck it was that just took place, it feels dangerous and scary. This place may only be my home for a short period of time, but it is my home right now. All my stuff is here. It’s where I feel comfortable and protected. I’ve gotten into a routine. I don’t want to lose it yet. I want to have a chance to enjoy it for right now.
I’ve spent so much of my life bouncing around to different places and for once, for just once, I want leaving to be on my terms. I don’t want to be kicked out or yanked out by someone else. I want to have control over just this one thing.
“Shit,” Josiah mutters, but I can barely hear him. The thoughts in my head are too loud, drowning him out. “Phoebe.”
“I’m fine,” I reply instinctively. He’s already done so much. Housing me, feeding me, working out with me. He had someone bring me my stuff from the hotel. The fact that he even knew which room I was in is freaking me out. It’s no wonder I’m always having to move- I’m bad at hiding myself. I’m bad at covering my tracks. I might as well scream where I am from the rooftops on a live stream, for as well as I conceal myself.
Josiah’s fingers are gentle under my chin and I blink back tears as he tilts me to face him. “Phoebe, breathe. Everything’s okay, sweetheart. What’s got you freaked out?”
Numbness is spreading over my body, starting at my shoulders and working its way down to my fingertips. My lips and face go next, slipping into oblivion as Josiah stares at me. I want to sink into the floorboards and disappear. It’s not supposed to be like this anymore. The medicine is supposed to be helping, and it probably is, but right now it doesn’t fucking feel like it.
"Fuck, Phoebe. Are you listening?" His voice is like an anchor, keeping me in place and keeping me from floating off on choppy water, but I’m still at sea.
My head bobs. What if I never get better? What if this anxious feeling never eases?
"Okay." He uses his hand to prop mine up so our palms are together with his fingers spread wide. "Look around and tell me five things you can see."
What the fuck is he doing? I blink until I can focus again and stare at him. I'm not sure what kind of game he's playing, but that's fine, I'll play along anyway. "You." He’s obviously right in front of me, so he’s the first thing that comes to mind.
He grins and nods, encouraging me for more. "Four more."
"Uh, the door? The gate and the other door."
"One more."
There’s not really much around since we’re in the air-lock thingy. "The… windows?"
"That counts." He uses his thumb to tuck my pinky under my palm so we each only have four fingers showing. "Okay, good. Now four things you can feel."
"Are we playing eye-spy or something?" This is annoying and I don’t want to play a game. I know I probably scared him, but I’m not dying. I’d much rather just go back to the time before all this happened. Everything was fine.
Until it wasn’t. Sometimes when I get too scared, things disappear from me- time, events. It’s like the part of my brain that makes memories just goes to sleep until the danger has passed. Did that happen again? I don’t think I did anything wrong.
"Kind of,” Josiah says, drawing my attention back to him. “Come on. What do you feel?"
"I feel numb." And angry because he’s making me do this stupid thing for no reason instead of just leaving me alone.
He shakes his head. "No, physical things. Like, the floor under your feet."
"This is so strange,” I groan. “I feel your hand. And…" I look down at myself. “The wall digging into my spine. The floor.” I can feel the wire from my bra cutting into my ribs, but I'm not going to say that out loud. "I can feel the tag in the back of my shirt." It's actually quite bothersome now that I've recognized it.
"Good!” Why is he cheering me on for this childish experiment or whatever we’re doing? “What about the air in your lungs?”
“Yeah. I feel that.”
“Great job!” He pushes my ring finger under my hand, leaving three of my fingers up. “Three things you can hear."
"How long is this game?" I don’t want to play anymore. It’s so frustrating to just stand here while our food gets cold and answer these stupid questions.
"It's not a game. Keep going."
"Josiah, I'm not in the mood, honestly. I'd really like to eat," I whine, hoping that a begging tone will get him to leave me alone. I’m frustrated and my guts are churning because I’m perched at the halfway point of losing my shit. My lungs are burning and my chest is tight and I don’t want to do this anymore. The numbness that was inside me is turning to anger and I curl my other hand into a fist, the one he’s not touching.
He notices, although I had hoped he wouldn’t. "Tell me three things you can hear."
I roll my eyes and huff through my nose. "I can only hear two things. Your voice and my voice."
