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He gives me a look before slipping into the room and closing the door. “You had a panic attack today, man.”
I shrug. “So? Jax has them all the time.”
He leans against the door, studying me. “You don’t. I’ve only seen you have a couple, and one of them was clear back when …” He trails off, swallowing hard.
I know the exact moment he’s referring to, when Raven—Willow—got swept away in that river and we never saw her again. At least, that’s what part of me believes. The other part of me wonders if I have seen her for the last few days, if she’s the girl who helped me through the panic attack that I had downstairs. I both loved and hated that moment. Loved because, for a flicker of a moment, I felt something else besides anger, something warm and foreign but not totally unfamiliar. But I also hated it because I’m not used to being comforted. What I’m used to is being tortured, on a ledge, constantly feeling like I’m going to fall. It’s how I was raised.
“I know when it was,” I finish for him as I head over to my closet to get some clothes so I can change for this party. “And so what if I had a panic attack? I was in the fucking basement. It makes sense.” My tone is starting to shake, and I hate it.
“I know it does.” He’s moved into the closet doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, especially since you took off.”
“I’m fine.” I yank a shirt down, avoiding his gaze.
My heart is starting to race. I don’t like the feeling at all. I like my heartbeat to be steady, consistent, and unmoving, just like how I want to appear on the outside.
“Zay,” he says hesitantly. “You took off … You’re not just fine.” He shifts his weight, standing up straight. “I mean, I know you’re not one to sit around and talk about your problems, but you just ran off into a storm.” Another pause. “And I have this feeling that Raven has something to do with it. I mean …” He huffs an exhale. “What happened between you two in the basement?”
My heart rate quickens even more. What happened in the basement was that she pulled me out of a panic attack, like she threw me a life vest in a sea of anxiety raging through me. No, fuck that. It’s like she jumped off the ledge with me as I fell into an abyss of terror, and then she sprouted fucking wings and flew us out of there.
She saved me from completely losing my shit, and while part of me is grateful, the other part of me is fucking terrified, because I don’t want anyone to have that sort of control over me. Ever. I’ve lived that damn life, the one where I can be manipulated and controlled. My father did it to me all the time.
“Nothing happened.” I turn with a shirt in my hand. “Are you going to step out so I can change or are you going to stand there and watch?”
He rolls his eyes but ultimately sighs and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone.
Which is what I want. Because when you’re alone, there’s nothing but space and emptiness instead of pain and aching.
TWELVE
RAVEN
I feel stupid. Like some dumbass girl playing dress-up. I hadn’t paid much attention to the outfit that Low and I decided on, mainly because my head had been stuck on the remark she made about that girl being alive. Willow, I think her name. This girl that I’m starting to question if she’s me, and yet I’m still not saying anything, almost like I’ve been brainwashed into keeping my mouth shut.
Well, that or I’ve just been scared into doing it.
That thought creeps into my mind as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Like I said, I feel stupid and am pretty convinced I look stupid, too. But seriously, the velvet shirt and top I’m wearing is way nicer than anything I’ve ever worn. The shirt is an off-the-shoulder top that only goes to the bottom of my ribcage. But the skirt is high enough on my waist that the scars and wounds on my side are hidden. It’s short enough, however, that if I bend over just right, I’ll flash someone my ass. I also have on knee-high socks, platforms, and a black choker, and Low gave me this thigh holster thing that is supposed to carry my phone. It seems a bit weird—and even more so that she had something like this—but I strapped it around my thigh, anyway. I have my hair pulled up, and the ponytail is secured with a red ribbon because Low said I needed, “a pop of color.” I also stained my lips red and outlined my eyes with kohl eyeliner. The last finishing touch was lip gloss. I’ve never put this much effort into my looks before, and I’m not sure if I like it. Or maybe I’m just being self-conscious because I’m going to a party.
Sighing, I pick up my phone and dial Low’s number, something Jax programmed into it already.
“Hey, bestie,” she answers after three rings. “Let me guess, you’re overanalyzing the outfit we picked out.”
I fiddle with the hem of my skirt. “How the heck did you know that?”
“Because I’m on to you, best friend.” She laughs wickedly, causing me to snort a laugh. “Seriously, though, I promise you look amazing So, stop thinking and own it.”
“You sound like a positive quote of the day.”
“That’s what I’m aiming for.”
We both laugh again.
Someone says something in the background, and she sighs. “That’s my tutor. He’s so annoying. Seriously. And I don’t know why I have to sit here and study when school got canceled. I should be going to a party … Not that I usually do, but you’re there, and you’re my best friend. I’m thinking maybe it might be fun.”
I’m wary about where she’s going with this. “It could be.”
“Yeah, it could be,” she agrees. “So, I’m thinking that maybe if you asked Hunter if I could come, he’d be more likely to say yes. You could bat your eyelashes at him. I bet it’d totally work.”
I think about how Hunter mentioned the dangers at this party. “I don’t know if I should.”
