Page 34 of Saving Noah

An unopened email waited for him. His fingers froze over the button that would open it up for him to read. Cameron emailed him all the time. Why was he suddenly concerned about what waited for him on the other side of the computer realm?

He wasn’t. He had this. His imagination was running wild because of the decrease in his medications. The doctor had warned him about the possibility. That was all this was. Talk yourself through it. Identify the concern and focus only on the facts. No biggie.

He hit the button and, sure enough, the email was from Cameron. The earth started spinning again. Noah nearly groaned out loud. Was it that time already? Zach wouldn’t be pleased. Zach could go fuck himself. Noah didn’t do this shit because he enjoyed posing nude for sick perverts. He modeled to survive. He’d explained his limited work options. Zach would just have to understand.

Did Zach honestly think this was what he wanted to do with his life? He’d had dreams once. Sure, they’d been all over the board, changing as often as his mood, but never before had he pictured himself posing in provocative positions in kinky costumes for some online viewers who paid big bucks to jack off to his humiliation. Nope, that hadn’t been on his list, not at the top or the bottom. The thing was, he’d learned to improvise to survive. If he wanted to degrade himself, it was his decision, not Zach’s.

He typed a quick note to Cameron, letting him know he was sick and wouldn’t be available for this Friday’s shoot. Missing one time wouldn’t destroy his “career.” He logged off before he had to see and deal with Cameron’s reply.Why have all the fun now? I should save some for later, right?

Taking his pen and paper, he went over to the couch, plopped down, and stared at the blank page. Where to start? He hated this shit, hated himself for being so weak it led to this. He hated Dante Moretti for using him, hated Donovan Moretti for being such a fucking slimeball murdering bastard. While he was at it, he hated his father, too. If he hadn’t gotten involved with the Moretti family, Noah’s life wouldn’t be fucked up worse than Humpty Dumpty’s trip over that wall. He missed his parents. They hadn’t been the most loving or supportive parents in the world, but they’d beenhis.

He took a breath and started writing.

I’m afraid to leave my apartment building because I know Moretti has somebody on the outside, waiting to kill me.

I’m afraid to talk to people because I have no way of knowing if they’ve been hired to make sure I permanently disappear.

I can’t work because I’m afraid to leave my building—see above.

I can’t have a normal relationship because I’m afraid to leave my building—see above.

If I can’t work, talk to people, leave my apartment, or have a normal relationship, I’m no longer a functioning member of society…so what’s the point of my existence?

If I found myself to be in a wide-open space (like the park), an anxiety attack would come because there could be people everywhere, all around me, wanting to kill me.

Small spaces (like elevators) scare me because there’s nowhere to run or hide.

I don’t like people touching me (so I can’t be in crowds) because I’m convinced they are in possession of guns, knives, or something utterly ridiculous like a drug they could rub on my skin that would kill me…slowly.

Sometimes panic attacks come because people are looking at me with pity or like they think I’m a freak (which I am).

Sometimes my apartment doesn’t even feel safe and I’m forced to hide in my closet—just writing that on paper almost causes a panic attack.

Noah tossed the notepad aside, disgusted with himself because of all his bullshit fears and even more disgusted because tears were running down his face. Fuck, it was even more pathetic when one wrote it down on paper. Was that the purpose? Was the doctor trying to open his eyes to what a disaster he was? Newsflash—he already knew.

Frustrated, angry, and totally pissed off, he stood, stalked over to the French doors leading to an outdoor balcony, and stared at the thick black curtains separating him from the outside world.Yeah, I need to add that one to my list: heavy black curtains are required to cover every damned piece of glass inside my apartment to prevent panic attacks. He took a deep breath and continued to stare. He could do this. It wasn’t like there was a member of the Moretti crime family standing outside on his balcony, just pissing away the last three years as he waited for Noah to grow some balls and open the curtains. That was fucking impossible.No, but they could be in one of the apartments across the street, ready to blow my brains all over my clean floor the very second the curtains flutter. That was stupid. Open the goddamned curtain, just a crack.

His heart pounded.

His skin was clammy.

His hands trembled in pure fear.

The room started to spin and his chest tightened up.

His finger automatically reached for the panic button on the bracelet he wore, but then he paused. This wasn’t a heart attack. It wasn’t a heart attack. With a willpower he hadn’t known he possessed any longer, he focused on his breathing, counted each and every breath.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Deep breath.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He sank to his knees.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

*****

Zach was home a little earlier than usual and he’d like to say it was because he’d had a cancelation or the waiting room wasn’t filled to maximum occupancy, but those weren’t the reasons. No, he was home early because he couldn’t stay away from Noah for another minute. Every morning, when he left him all snuggled in bed and looking thoroughly fucked, hair sticking out in every direction and a satisfied smile curving his sexy lips, Zach started counting the minutes until he would get to see him again. It was frustratingly ridiculous, and more often than not, he felt like a teenager in high school, powered solely by testosterone-driven lust. It might be embarrassing, but he wouldn’t change a damned thing with the King Kong chest-pounding feeling Noah caused. As it turned out, shy neighbor boy was sassy, snarky, funny, sexually adventurous, too cute for his own good, and the most trusting person Zach had ever encountered. When he looked at Zach with those blue eyes, Zach felt like he could conquer the fucking world. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time, not since the day he’d realized what a monster he’d become while living in his father’s world.

He wished so badly everything could stay just like this; that Noah would always look at him with admiration instead of it one day turning to disgust when he found out the things Zach had done in his past. Maybe Noah would never learn that sordid truth? How hard would it be to keep it secret?

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