Page 130 of Frost and Death
The fortitude of Jerrick behind me mixed with tension leaving my body is comforting.
But the fear of the past, fear of the pain, fear of my magic call forth—
A cracking shakes through my skull, and my eyes burst open.
“Why did you stop?” Jerrick asks.
I cover my face with my hands, shaking my head. “I-I can’t.” Shame and fear dig into my skin.
Jerrick eases my hands from my face. “Try again, but this time, when your mind wanders away from counting your breaths, give yourself grace. Then return to focusing on the rise and fall of your chest.”
I close my eyes. The dread of returning to those same thoughts has me hesitating.
Jerrick holds my palms steady, never letting go, and kisses the top of my head once more. “Relax your eyes,” he murmurs against my scalp, drifting his thumbs back and forth across my skin.
I listen to his guidance.
“Good girl,” he purrs, and my heart stutters at the smooth drawl behind his approval. “Now, breathe with me.”
I focus on the rise and fall of Jerrick’s chest, concentrating on moving past his praise and having my breathing align with his. The heat in my stomach remains strong, granting me more relief from my cycle and a chance to try again.
With Jerrick’s power surrounding me, it’s easier to match his breathing, especially as he repeats the same words. “Inhale. Exhale.”
Eventually, he stops speaking, letting our bodies breathe in tandem. His calloused thumb taunts me, and my thoughts wander again.
Jerrick’s voice keeps me at bay, as if knowing the second my mind wandered.
“Now, feel,” he breathes.
Memories, distant and far between, twinkle along the edges of my mind. Faint feelings beyond grief and despair drift back to me, causing my lip to quiver.
The caress of love and happiness of my family is light, drifting away faster than I can follow. The pit of my own Oblivion crawls forward, snuffing out the glimpse of emotions I long felt forgotten, and the reality of my situation thrashes.
I instinctively move my hands, but Jerrick holds them firm.
“Grace, Frostbite,” he reminds me gently.
A weight builds in my chest, and I try to resist accepting the monster that I am. I squirm adamantly.
“I-I—”
“Say you are doing your best,” Jerrick instructs.
Warmth spreads over me as I struggle through repeating him. “I-I’m doing my best…”
“Say it is okay not to be okay.”
I hesitate at his words, tempted to peer up at him and ask why he wants me to say that.
He nudges me with his body, reminding me to do as he says.
“It’s okay not to be okay.”
“Good, now focus on those words and come back to your breathing,” Jerrick says. “I’m here with you every step. I’ve got you.”
He resumes his own meditation, keeping hold of my hands and twiddling lazy circles.
Concentration should be hard, yet his touch and magic ground me and help me find my own center as I chant. The conscious thoughts of matching Jerrick’s evened breaths pull me away from the phrases, even as Jerrick’s uplifted voice instructs me to open my eyes.
