Page 10 of Signed For Him

But I can't. My eyes won't open, unwilling and unwanting to see what's in front of me.

"Charlie. Look at me." His voice sounds panicked, afraid almost as I feel his hands find my shoulders. He shakes me. He's inside.

I force my eyes open, seeing Liam crouched down in the bathtub beneath the shower opposite me fully clothed, now soaking wet too.

"You're having a panic attack. That's what this is, right?" I nod, not trusting my voice as the tears continue to roll down my cheeks, falling into the tub alongside the shower water still spurting out.

"Charlie, I need you to breathe for me. Breathe in, copy me," he instructs as he takes a deep breath and encourages me to do the same.

I try to follow his instructions but all I can feel is the pain and fire in my lungs.

"I can't," I sob, my words coming out practically unintelligible as he shakes his head, lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it aside before reaching over and pulling me onto his lap.

"Feel me. Feel my hands on you, feel my heart beating, Charlie. You can hear my voice and no one else's," he tells me firmly as I fall into his chest, my legs pulled up beneath me.

His hands stroke my hair, my back, my shoulders.

“Touch me, baby girl. Don’t think about anything else. Touch me and know that while you’re here, while you’re in my arms, that I will never let another soul near you," he whispers, his hand pulling mine up to his chest, my palm above his steadily beating heart.

"Match me, baby girl. You used to try and make our hearts and breathing match when you were little. You used to copy my breathing pattern. Do it now. Feel me, trust me, and copy me." I listen to his words, let them consume me as I take nothing else in.

He's right. I remember him cuddling me as a child and trying to make myself breathe at the same time as him. His breaths always seemed too slow, meaning that I'd end up out of breath quickly, but I ignore that and do it again. I imitate his breathing, feel his hands as they slide over my shivering body, and feel his heart beating beneath my hand, his chest rising and falling at the same time as my own.

"I will never let anyone get to you, Charlie. I might be the bad guy, but I know you know I'm being truthful when I say that you can trust me in this moment. I would skin any man or woman alive that dared to even think about harming you." His words are harsh, though what's even more brutal is the truth in them. He's right and despite the way he's treated me, even if just for his pride or his fucked up way of caring for me, I do know that he wouldn't ever let anyone else hurt me.

"Breathe with me, baby girl, keep breathing." I don't say anything as I take his continued commands in and do as he instructs.

The world seems a little clearer, not as hazy or blinding and within minutes that feel like hours my breathing has regulated to match Liam’s.

"No one will ever get to you again. The only devil that you need to worry about in your life is me."

"Is that supposed to help?" I strangle out, my voice croaky from the tears.

"You might not realise it but you have limits, and I'd never push you past them. I know what you can handle from me and what you can't. You might feel like I've pushed you out of your comfort zones, but I have never and won't ever tip you over the edge."

I think his words over, my mind reeling back to the torture he had inflicted upon me until I had given in. He truly didn't think he had pushed me too far. Had he? Despite these panic attacks that are more based on my lack of control than Liam, I have always known, even in the worst events with him, that I could stop it or at the very least make him stop even if the actions that happen afterwards don't stop. I think.

I knew that he didn't want to hurt me permanently, maybe I did know subconsciously that I could get through it and he did too. Or maybe he's just saying what he thinks will help. I'm not sure any part of me will ever truly know.

His hands comb through my wet hair as he carefully detangles it with his fingers. The slight tugging as he undoes the mess brings my breathing down, using the unusual comfort to help tame my wildly beating heart.

"Come on, you're going to bed. You need to rest," he tells me with a huff as he lifts my body, still clinging to his as he stands and steps outside of the bathtub and begins the walk towards his bedroom.

"Why are you so nice to me sometimes and so willing to hurt me at others?" I ask, braving the question even though I know it could end badly if it makes his temper flare.

He doesn't stop, doesn't answer me either. He places me on top of the duvet on his bed, pulling the covers from the other side to wrap me up so I'm practically cocooned in the embrace of the warm and familiar material.

I watch as he walks away and returns only moments later with a glass of water and what looks to be two paracetamols.

He sighs, eyeing me with a curious smile before sitting beside me. The bed dips with his presence and weight and for the first time in a long time, not a single part of me feels afraid with him so near.

His jaw tics and tightens as his eyes roam over my face.

"What started this? What are you worrying about?" he asks, the question catching me off guard as I look up at him with my brows creased.

"Are you joking?"

"Obviously not, Charlie," he tells me sternly, his hand circling in front of him as if encouraging me to speak.

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