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“Not much. She did fill me in a little about why the panic attacks happen, but I’d like to hear it from you. All of it, if you can.” His eyes scan my face.
I know I need to tell him, but it’s so hard.
Hesitating, I take a deep breath, and he smiles at me to give me support. “Chris and I were born to be together.” He shifts his weight under me, not liking how I’ve started the conversation. “He’s two months older than I am, and for eighteen years, we were together just about every single day. Our parents were best friends, and they loved the idea that he and I would one day end up together, uniting our families once and for all.”
“Sounds medieval,” he mumbles, frowning.
“It wasn’t, and honestly, up until he changed, I had the best life ever.” I shrug my shoulders and know my expression shows my sadness. Staring up at the ceiling, I’m sure it’s easy for Ash to see that I really did love him.
“What caused the change?” He looks at me with a genuine question in his eyes.
“Steroids.” I hate this word.
Complete loathing drips across his face and he swallows to stamp it down. “Did you know he was taking them?” His hand runs down my arm and picks up my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“No. Not until after it was all over, but it makes sense. He wanted to be bigger, better, faster, and well, he was. Right around the same time, he’d started having these random episodes where he would flush red and completely overreact to the littlest things. He would get aggressive and have spurts of crazy violent behavior. Punching the walls, breaking things, throwing things, and every muscle would strain from his neck to his fists.”
Ash looks out across the room, his jaw locked tight and his chest moving up and down with the effort of staying calm.
“He hurt you.” His blue eyes flicker down to mine.
“He did,” I whisper.
Shaking his head, he sits up a little straighter and pulls his hands off of me. “I’m so mad right now, but I’m afraid to be mad near you because I don’t want to scare you.” He looks away from me and his hands fist next to his hips.
“Ash, I’m not afraid of you. You don’t scare me.” I roll so I’m off my back and facing him.
“He didn’t either, until it was too late,” he grits out between his teeth.
“Look at me.” His eyes find mine and what I see in them isn’t scary. Yes, he’s mad, but it’s a protective anger. “I’ve read a lot of articles about ‘roid rage,’ and there’s a consistent theme across the board. Most experts believe that people who develop it already had a tendency to get angry, and he did. I’ve never seen you angry, but even if you were, that’s a normal emotion and reaction to things. His was just more, and it was like one day I woke up and he had undergone a complete personality change.”
“Emma mentioned something about the last night. What happened the last night?” The blue in his eyes is darker, troubled. I hate that he feels this way, but love it at the same time. He cares. About me.
“I’m not that girl, Ash, so please don’t think that I am. After a while, once I realized things were only going to get worse and not better, I began to make plans. I deserved better.” Tears fill my eyes, and his expression changes, softens. “That was the night I told him we were over.”
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The beeping doesn’t stop as awareness sinks in.
Every movie and every story has it right—the beeping always registers first.
Light slowly filters in through the thinness of my eyelids, creating a muted darkness versus an empty blackness.
I wiggle my toes and pain shoots up my leg.
Pain. Dull, but present everywhere, mostly in my heart.
I know where I am.
One by one, words and images are conjured up to the forefront of my mind, reminding me of the things he did and said. My already broken heart dissolves into liquid and its tears escape from my eyes. How could he do this to me? What happens now? Keeping my eyes closed, I lie here praying for a fast death just to avoid my impending reality.
I don’t want to be here.
I don’t want to do this anymore.
