Page 5 of Saving Noah

He’d gotten to pet Zachary’s German shepherd a grand total of four times. She had soft fur and friendly eyes. Her owner? Nothing soft about his hot body, and definitely no friendly eyes when he looked in Noah’s direction.

At least the dog was all right, not that Zachary or his friend had dropped by to let him know his worries had been for nothing. No, he’d been lucky enough to see Zachary taking her out for her evening bathroom break in between sessions last night. Through the peephole, of course. It would be a cold day in hell before he made the mistake of stepping out into the hallway when Zachary was out there. Contrary to what one would think when reviewing his history, he wasn’t really a glutton for punishment. He just made dumbass decisions that led to punishing experiences.

He needed to count instead of rehash shit that had been hashed over millions of times inside his head. Counting calmed him. Rehashing the hash produced the opposite result. He’d count his breaths—that was always a safe way to clear his mind. It was also an excellent way to remind him that he wasn’t normal and that he didn’t need to be dreaming girlie dreams about living a normal life. He tried to take a deep breath, but it ended in a strangled cough instead. Frowning, he opened his eyes and checked the clock on the wall.

Holy shit! He’d been in the sauna for over an hour. It was no wonder he couldn’t drag in a breath of air. What in the hell was he thinking? He quickly stood to make his escape, but grabbed the wall for support. Way too long. He tried to suck in a deep breath, but his lungs felt heavy. Not only had he stayed in too long, he’d forgotten to drink from his bottled water. He was dehydrated and already feeling sluggish. With slow but steady movements, he made his way to the door, paused, counted, gathered his courage, and then turned the door latch. He’d done this hundreds of times since the illness took over his life, but opening a door and forcing himself to step out, simply moving from one room into another, caused his heart to momentarily stop beating every single time. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he could remember a time when he’d not been afraid of anything. But that Noah didn’t exist anymore. Now everything scared him, including, but not limited to, walking through doorways.

Somebody started down the hall toward the sauna, saw him, and immediately remembered something they needed to do. They quickly turned and went back in the direction they’d been coming from. As he took a tentative step across the threshold, he shook his head; if it weren’t so sad, it would be funny.

No, there wasn’t one damned funny thing about his life.

On weak legs and with burning lungs, he walked down the short hall that led to the locker room. His eyes remained glued to the floor in front of him, and he counted each and every step—always exactly seventeen steps, but he counted anyway. With every step and with every number he ticked off in his head, he tried to stop himself from acknowledging how long he’d been away from the safety of his apartment.Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Almost five hours. Shit. That wasn’t good. Five hours. Bad. Very bad.

Finally reaching his locker, he forced his fingers to stop trembling long enough to unlatch the attached lock. A shower was out of the question. No time. Because of his nervous fumbling, it took much too long to slide into baggy sweats, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. He pushed his wallet into his pocket, slammed then locked his locker, and headed toward the door. He could do this. No biggie. Forty-seven steps to the lobby area. Seventy-six steps through the lobby to get to the elevator. Four steps to the corner of the elevator where he stood every time he rode it. Four steps off. Fourteen steps to his door.

There was no need to panic. He wouldnothave a panic attack. They hurt. They scared him. He was stronger than that.

He made it to the elevator. Things were good. Four steps to his corner. The doors slid closed and he worked on counting his breaths as the floors whisked by. When the doors opened, he placed his right hand over his chest to assure himself his heart still beat at a regular pace. Fourteen steps later, he felt like he could conquer the world.

Five hours.

He’d been out of his apartment for five hours and the world hadn’t ended. His heart hadn’t exploded. No one had tried to kill him. Hell, no one had even noticed him as he’d moved through the busy lobby of his apartment complex.

Five hours.

He laughed out loud, feeling like a total badass. First, his dick got hard without Viagra and then he kicked life right in its fat ass. Five fucking hours. Cameron would shit when he heard about this record-setting success.

As he punched in the code to unlock his door, he knew the security guard responsible for monitoring the cameras would surely notice the dumbass smile on his face. He didn’t give a care. Badasses were allowed to smile at whatever they wanted to.

A strange noise caused his badass smile to vanish. A beep…declining his entry code.

His fingers trembled when he entered the numbers again. A declining beep.

The panic attack hit with lightning speed. One second, he could breathe; the next second, there wasn’t any oxygen available.

Dizziness.

Tunnel vision.

His heart seized, and in his mind, he could see it stop beating. Pain gripped every portion of his body. He needed air, but there wasn’t any. His finger found the panic button on the bracelet he always wore. A voice immediately asked if he needed assistance, but he couldn’t talk. He couldn’t breathe. His heart wouldn’t beat. Even though there was no escape, he tried to force his feet to move in the direction of the elevator. The urge to escape kept him moving, even when there was nowhere to run.

Before he could push the button to open the doors, a new pain, something he hadn’t experienced in any of his other panic attacks, exploded inside his head when he crashed to the floor.

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