Page 30 of Back to Willow

“Are you sure?” His hesitation made me look back at him and nod. The sun hung low as we stared at each other intensely. The yellowish tone made his tanned skin glow, and his eyes shine more. We were a mess of tangled limbs and skin. It was hard to know where one ended and the other started, but all our sensations were heightened. “Lo, baby. We can wait.” There was this bubbly feeling inside of me, being activated every time he touched me.

“I am one hundred percent sure.,” I was, and there was no one I’d rather do this with. As he had said once, he was my forever.

It’s a never-ending loop between the best and the worst memories. Both of which not letting me go, reminding me how fucked up I am.

His unfamiliar scent made me nauseous while his foreign and calloused hand squeezed my breast too tight, making me whimper in pain. My brain kept blaring alarming sounds in a final warning, and my past experiences let me know this was not what it should feel like. But at that moment, I was powerless, and all I could do was block my thoughts in a desperate attempt to prevent the gravity of this situation from sinking in. Because I knew, once it did, everything would be destroyed.

My body slumps further against the wall. These ghosts insist on dragging me to the depths of hell, scarring my soul even more. How much do I have to suffer before I can put it all behind me?

I was naïve to think a fresh start would solve all my problems. And having my past walk back into my present is proof enough. There’s no escaping this torture.

I am unworthy of anything good. Dirty. Useless. A shell of what I should be, of what I used to be.

“Willow?” A faint muffled call finally reaches my ears, slowly bringing me back to consciousness.

I want to answer, but it’s hard to free myself once the spiral starts.

“Willow, dear? Please open up.”

My chest and scalp hurt, probably from fighting myself to make it stop. How I wish I could reset my brain from all the pain and hurt and be able to function properly again. After all of these years, I still can’t.

Weak.

“Are you alright?” the same voice speaks but I pay no mind.

I can’t.

“She’s not responding.”

“Willow? Darling?” the woman calls after a couple of knocks. “Deep breaths; do it with me. Focus on my breathing.” The warm and familiar voice, Shilah’s, finally reaches my ears.

Trying to follow her direction, I try to breathe in deeply, only to fail miserably and sob again.

“Keep trying! Don’t stop, come on,” she says, and I feel her grab my hand, placing it on her chest.

In. Out. In. Out.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

Slowly, my breathing slows down, and oxygen finally makes its way to my lungs. The surroundings become visible again, even if still blurry. When I can finally focus, I notice Shilah and Johanna crouched before me with deep frowns and sad eyes.

Oh, the pity...I hate it.

After two attempts of trying to stand up and failing, Johanna and Shilah help me up, sitting me down on the bench right next to the lockers.

“You’re okay now, darling. No need to worry.” Shilah coos, patting a humid towel down my forehead.

Johanna is completely silent with her intense gaze on me. With just one look at her face, I can see a million questions swirling in her eyes, even if she knows better than to ask at this moment. I am not sure if, after this panic attack, I will even be able to answer whatever it is she is curious about.

“Thank you, both of you. This hasn’t happened in a few years. I am so embarrassed,” I mutter between hiccups.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Shilah fake-scolds. “Triggers happen when we least expect them.” Her smile is kind but all I can focus on is Johanna’s tight lips and sombre expression.

Even though Nana and Jake have an idea of what might have happened, no one ever pushed me to speak about it. Especially since I found a coping mechanism through Dylan. Shilah is not the kind to prod either, and Johanna and I aren’t that close for her to have the courage to bluntly ask questions. I can see it in her eyes, she’s drinking up as much information as possible.

---