Page 45 of The Spotlight Effect

It’s only like seven, so I’m not sure why she’s leaving, but here we are, standing in his room, staring at each other. “I’ll leave you to get ready for bed,” he says and leaves the room before I have a chance to respond. It takes me even longer to move and find the bathroom.

This feels so surreal being in Grayson’s room, about to take a shower. How am I going to make it through the night here?

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR

ALEXIA

It’s him. The bed smells as such.

“No, stop, please!” I begged, sobbing as I slowly crouched closer and closer to the ground until I kneeled on the ground.

“No! This is all his fault!” he shouted. His angry and loud voice boomed through the air. I’m terrified. Dexter wrappedhis arms around me, trying to shield me from him.

“You will leave her alone. But take me,” Dexter demanded.

“No!” I sobbedand placed my head in his arms further. He couldn’t leave. I needed him, I didn’t want to be alone in a world without him. Everything was blurry, spinning, way too loud, when a loud ringing bursted through the air, someone was shot.

My eyes burstopen from the memory; I’m breathing heavily and sweating. His voice still echoes around me.

He still haunts me.

The nightmares are happening again. Like they always do. I remember this time more than I’d like. I thought I finally didn’t need my medicine, so the doctor took me off. Mom was so proud. Only Dexter knows I still have trouble with my PTSD.

I lift my head to look around the room, and I see Grayson is no longer here. Where did he go? I get up from the bed and I go to the door. Carefully, I open the door, then slip out into the hall.

I lean over the railing as I breathe out. Relief slightly floods out. I grip the railing a bit more because now I’m starting to shake, and a few stray tears are falling due to the memory that surfaced. I breathe out slow deep breaths to not overwhelm myself as more tears start to flow.

I go through deep breathing motions while closing and opening my hand on the railing till I’m calmer. I have a list, a list of special things I do when I have flashbacks like this, so I don’t break down.

First, calming breaths, then stress pressure, next calming thoughts. If it gets too bad, I list what I’m feeling, if it gets past that then tracing or as I say sensory focusing. I blink away the tears that had crowded my eyes before going downstairs where the waterfall is inside the glass. The only light shining is the base light in the waterfall. The darkness where people could lark. He could be.

I shake my head. No, he’s not here.

I need water.

I slowly get my balance together and start taking steps toward where I remember the kitchen to be. The house is somewhat dimly lit so I can find my way. As I get closer to the kitchen, I can see the lights are on.

I feel as if I could throw up.

I enter through the threshold to find Kenan sitting at the island drinking some amber colored liquid. I walk in and beeline right for the refrigerator to take out a bottle of Voss water. “Areyou okay? You look a little shaken up?” Kenan’s voice breaks the silence of the house.

“I had a mild anxiety attack and needed water. Why are you up?” I say as I close the refrigerator and open my water.

“Sometimes I have insomnia, and I tend to have an active head and get caught in my thoughts,” Kenan explains, before sipping his drink and I glance down at it.

“It’s not alcohol. It’s apple juice,” Kenan informs me, and I nod before drinking my water. I finish and walk around the counter to sit beside Kenan.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I ask.

“Nah, I’d just overthink it later. You?” he answers.

“No,” I answer.

“Well, we can always just sit here and be here for each other,” Kenan tells me, and I turn and look at him to find him looking at me. I give him a small smile.

“Thank you for the company,” he says.

“No problem.”

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