Page 83 of I'm Not in Love (I Promise)

I’m tired of those words… I’ve heard them so much in my life that hearing them now makes me want to scream.

We’re met with icy air and the scent of decay as we step into the morgue. Damon squeezes my hand, his grip like a much needed lifeline.

The next five minutes are a blur. I know the attendant and the officer speak to me but their words are muffled in my ringing ears. Damon answers questions beside me and before I know what’s happening, we’re back outside.

I stop in front of the car and put my head in my hands, sucking in breaths of cool air. Damon’s right there, like he always is, holding me close.

“Slow breaths,” he murmurs. “Nice and easy.”

I know the signs of a panic attack. Not just from a textbook, but from living with them for years now. It’s been a long time but even if it hadn’t, each time they come on still feels like death’s squeezing my insides with its bony fingers.

“I-I c-can’t,” I say through rapid breaths.

Oh God, my fingers are numb. My feet will come next. Then the full body shakes that make me feel like I’ve been plunged into icy water.

Damon reaches under my arms and sits me on the trunk of his car. “Baby, look at me. Focus on my face.”

He tips my chin up, but I can’t focus. I’m too disorientated. “Ch-choking,” I manage to say through desperate inhales.

Random obscenities leave his lips as I close my eyes, lay back on the windshield, and go into a dark space in my mind. A space where Brennan and Bryan and Mom are alive. They’re laughing, and not in pain. My chest constricts and limbs tremble. It hurts… Everything hurts.

A sharp sensation has me snapping my eyes open. I vaguely hear Damon say my name followed by more muffled words. “Blake, don’t fucking hate me for this.”

A slash of metal follows his words and I feel it again. Stinging, sharp pain. My vision clears as I focus on the sensation—the needle-like bite of his blade piercing my arm.

With my head down, I zero in on the crimson dribbles blossoming across my pale skin like soft rose petals. It’s a beautiful sight, to see my own life force spilling out of me. Minutes go by with me transfixed on the sight.

“Blake, look at me.” Jerking my head up, I’m met by Damon’s wide amber eyes. “Are you okay?” I nod slowly, pulling in a lungful of air through my nose. He makes a cut on the edge of his shirt and tears a large piece off. “Let’s get you wrapped up.”

I watch his deft hands work to secure the fabric along my wounds, tucking the end into itself. Feeling comes back to my extremities by the time he lifts me into his arms.

“W-what was that?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He sets me in the passenger seat, buckles me in, and heads over to his side before answering the question.

“Something I learned a while ago,” he says while backing out. “Physical sensations help ground us during a panic attack.”

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I concentrate on the throbbing ache. It’s unconventional, but it worked. “Thank you. That was a bad one.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He rests his hand on my thigh, gliding his thumb in a calming circle.

“Can we stop somewhere quiet? We need to talk.” As exhausted as I am, I can’t do this with him anymore. Not without letting everything out into the open air.

His jaw tenses. “Are you feeling well enough?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. The truth is, I won’t feel any better until I’ve said what I need to say.

He dips his chin and turns down a scenic road lined with bare trees. Only a few red and yellow stubborn leaves still cling to branches, unable to accept their inevitable death. I roll down the window and breathe in the rich scent of dry leaves and wood smoke.

“Coffee?” he asks, breaking me from daze.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good.” I could use the caffeine, among other things.

After grabbing us some drinks from a coffee shop nearby, he pulls over at a small empty park. He opens my door for me, and leads me to a wooden table under a towering oak tree.

I sip my coffee, feeling the warm liquid slide down my throat, waking my nerve endings. Damon jerks his head around, likely checking that we’re actually alone here.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I say. So much has happened recently that I feel like I’m living in another plane of existence. I close my eyes and focus on here and now, not the plans I had before everything went to shit.

---