Page 25 of Speak

A.who?

They were either erased or didn’t get to finish writing their name.

A.WHO?

The walls are caving in on me. Suffocating. The panic is in my throat. In my head. It’s blurry, blurry, blurry.Something I can see… nothing.

Can’t breathe.

I reach out, feeling and grab my phone from my desk on my way down to the ground, calling the only emergency number I have for moments like these.

Damon picks up on the second ring.

“Raven?” his voice wraps around me like a warm, silk blanket, the most comfortable blanket I’ve ever known. The video is on, his background is a landscape of trees. Trees I swear I recognize. He’s sweaty and I think he was running. “Raven, show me your face. I can’t see you. Are you okay?”

I tilt the phone to me. Letting his beautiful grey eyes see me in all my disheveled glory in pure panic mode. But he’s seen me at my worst and stayed, hasn’t he? Bound in a straight-jacket type of worst.Thisis most definitely not my worst.

“Okay. Okay, little bird.”Little bird. My heart cracks. “Did something happen?”

Yes, I found the names of my attackers.I make a face of pure agony because he’s not a fucking mind reader.

“Raven, do I need to call 911?”

I shake my head.No. They’ll take away the only evidence I have. The people here are connected. Can’t trust anyone. I need more proof.

He can’t hear my thoughts, I know this.

His eyebrows pop up in surprise. “Little bird, you’re communicating.”

I feel my eyebrows knit together.Little bird.I show him a soft smile through the screen.

“Did you have a panic attack?”

I blink and look away and back at him.

“Take your meds. Take a sleeping pill. It’s late. Grab your anti-anxiety blanket. Self-soothe. You got this. Okay? Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

I nod once.

“That’s my good girl. I’m going to stay on the phone with you. I need to see you take your meds, climb into bed and then we’ll hang up. I’m not leaving you alone in this, okay?”

His good girl. I’mhisgood girl.

I take him with me to the bathroom, set the phone up so he can see me, open my mirror that’s a medicine cabinet and grab one of each pill, grab the water bottle on my counter, gulp them down, and then show him, wiggling my tongue all around to prove I swallowed the pills like I would back at Lorne Wood under his care.

“So good, pretty girl. You did so fucking good for me. Now can you go to bed?”

I take him with me, turning the light off in both the bathroom and my room, the lavender sleep light immediately turning on at the lack of light. I pull the anxiety blanket over my body, letting the weight of it settle over my bones, the pressure perfect, wrapped around me. I pretend it’s him. I pretend it’s Jonas. I even pretend, for a second, it’s Professor Harrington.

Damon stays with me the entire time, even when my eyelids grow heavy and I let myself fall into a somewhat dreamless slumber, he stays with me and in my dreams, I swear I can smell him, I swear he’s with me, praising me, touching me, trailing his fingertips in places I wish he would’ve touched when I was in his care.

When I was his patient.

Chapter Six

Damon.

Driving into Rayne-Moore, I had noticed too many local pubs and bars, boutiques, cafes, bookstores, music stores, and a venue along with RMU Yellow Jackets everywhere…

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