Page 56 of If You Go
There’s a ringing, high and sharp, filling every space in my skull. My vision tunnels until all I see are the edges of his face and the panic in his eyes.
My heart hammers against my ribs—too fast—too loud—too much. My fingers shake, and I can’t stop them. My throat burns, but no air gets in.
Breathe. Just breathe. Please breathe.
I don’t know if I say it or think it or if it’s someone else entirely. I’m floating somewhere between the two.
Everything is blurry now—Sam’s voice muffled, Selene’s crying, my dad’s deep tone somewhere behind it all. I think I’m crying too. I don’t know.
Then—Alisha.
Her hands are on me. One behind my neck, the other pressing firm against my chest. Her voice cuts through the ringing like a thread of light.
“Hey, Surry. Look at me. Right here, love. Breathe with me, okay? In—” she exaggerates a breath “—and out. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
I can’t follow her at first. My chest jerks instead of expanding. My hands claw at my own legs. The edges of the room flicker.
“Come back t’ me, girl,” my dad says somewhere above me, his voice raw and broken. “Ye’re alright now, mo chroí. We’ve got ye. No one’s takin’ ye again.”
The sound of his accent—thick, rooted, old as stone—grounds me.
I gasp, then choke, then finally drag in a real breath. My ears still buzz, but the world stops tilting.
“There she is,” Alisha whispers. I can finally see her face clearly. Her eyes flick over mine like she’s counting. “You with me?”
I nod, but it’s shaky.
“They want me to talk to him,” I rasp. My voice barely exists.
Alisha’s head snaps toward Dad. “Absolutely not. I’ll do it. He hasn’t heard her voice in a decade. I can fake it. He won’t know.”
My dad shakes his head.“He’ll know, lass. He always bloody knows, so he does. I’d not be askin’ her if there were anotherroad t’ take. But only if he rings—aye? We won’t force the hand. An’ I’m doubtin’ he’ll call t’day. Not ta mention, we’ll be here wi’ ye, sure enough.”
Alisha’s jaw tightens. “Fine. But she needs a Xanax and restnow. I’ve seen her like this before. There’s a way to tell her these things without sending her into a full spiral. Next time, you tell me first, Stefan.”
He nods once, slow and shameful. “Aye. Ye’re right. I should’a thought.”
Alisha turns to Brenden. “Take her upstairs. Get her into bed. I’ll come up and help you settle her.”
Brenden scoops me up before I can argue, not that I would. His arms are strong, but his chest is trembling.
He doesn’t say a word. Just carries me through the halls of my home, blurred at the edges, quiet except for the pounding in my head.
In my room, he sets me down gently, peels off my clothes with careful hands. Pants, socks, then bra. Alisha presses a pill into my palm, a glass of water against my lips. I can’t believe I let myself get here. That I allowed myself to react to something as simple as his name.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur to Alisha.
“Swallow, love,” she replies instead of acknowledging my words.
I do.
“There is nothing to be sorry for, Surry. You can’t help what your nervous system does. You went into fight, flight, or freeze. And this time, your body chose freeze. But there was nothing you could do to stop it. For now, just rest. It will help you wake with a clear head and we will plan. Alright?” She brushes my hair back from my face and kisses my forehead.
The world starts to soften. The edges blur again, but this time, it’s gentle. Safe.
Brenden tucks me in, his hand smoothing my hair back as the blackness creeps in. I hear him whisper something — maybe my name, maybe a prayer.
Then nothing.
