Page 52 of Texting Dr. Stalker

A shimmery figure glittered in my peripheral; I swore I heard Nana whisper,“Call someone, Little Lor. Quickly now. Just in case.”

My entire body jittered as I reached for the fallen phone.

Fresh sobs choked me at the thought of what my neighbours would think if another ambulance pulled up outside my house for the second time this month.

“Never mind that,”Nana’s ghost cooed.“You’re spiralling, dear. Best let someone help—”

Help.

Yes.

I needed help.

But not from anyone who knew me.

Snatching the phone that’d fallen out of my pocket, I laugh-sobbed as I caressed not my mobile but the one he’d given me.

A sign. A lifeline.

Hauling myself up, I reclined against the wall, brought my knees up, and typed with quaking fingers.

Me:Tell me something random. Anything. Quickly.

Time ticked. My tears fell. A text message pinged.

X:What’s happened? Are you okay?

The level of caring in that one sentence. The fact I didn’t have to hide to protect his feelings.

Me:No, I’m not okay. I’m having a panic attack. I think.

X:List your symptoms. Right now.

Me:My heart is racing. My mind is too. I feel stupidly overwhelmed, like the world is closing in. Which is ridiculous as I have no right to feel this way. But I can’t stop seeing the guy who hurt me.

X:First, it definitely sounds like a panic attack. Second, you have every right to feel that way. I don’t know what happened, but your bruises and black eye say something serious did.

Me:You probably think I’m being idiotic messaging a total stranger when I’m having a meltdown.

X:I offered, remember? And I can’t tell you how glad I am that you took me up on it. If it will help, tell me what happened. You can say as little or as much as you want. I’m good at keeping secrets.

I sniffed back my tears, my heart no longer colliding with my ribs. Taking a deep breath instead of the shallow pants that’d crippled me, I went to type but paused.

I hadn’t told anyone.

Not even the psychiatrist who’d visited me before I was discharged.

How could I even contemplate telling someone I’d never met the most terrible thing that’d ever happened to me?

Do it.

What have you got to lose?

Maybe that was my problem. I’d blocked up all those memories bynottalking. If I shared them, maybe they’d vanish with no more power over me.

Me:I was blind and didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

Exhaling hard, I added.

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