Page 29 of A Lesson In Beginning

I opened my mouth to lash out, to give defense to the very notion she struck down, but immediately realized a powerful truth: I could not. She was right. There was no work of God in the world the Elders of Zion had created. And logically, that meant there was no God in the marriage they had forced upon me, either.

My chest tightened painfully; my heart racing, nearly injuring me with every furious beat against my ribcage, threatening to tear me apart with the realization of such a truth.

I tried to pull my hand away, but she refused to release me from her grasp. I realized a moment later that I had begun to pant, my breaths feeling labored and painful.

“Breathe, Adah. It’s okay. I’m here. Focus on the room around you. Things you can see. Things you can hear. Things you can smell.” Her thumb brushed over the back of my hand and I found myself focusing on that very small action.

“I feel like… I can’t breathe.” My chest tightened so much I had to press my free hand against it just to try to stave off the painful sensation.

“You’re having a panic attack. Turn towards me. Just keep your eyes on me, and follow my breathing.” Shifting around on the sofa, I did as she asked, turning to face her, both of my hands now locked in her grasp. Our eyes connected as she slowly inhaled and exhaled with over-exaggerated movements. I tried to time my breathing with hers, totally failing at first, but after a few moments, the overwhelming pain and panic began to recede. The pounding of my pulse slowed. The roaring in my ears of blood rushing through my veins quieted, and I could breathe easily once more.

“I felt like I was going to have a heart attack.” My words felt shaky, my breathing still not completely back to normal, but at least I was calmer.

“I know the feeling.” She laughed lightly, with a slightly far-away look in her eyes.

“You do?”

“I do. I know it very well.” I knew it was wrong to press a person for more details than they were willing to share, especially regarding something as private and personal as this, but I was not thinking clearly and the words rushed past my lips unheeded and unprevented.

“How do you know it? Why?” She smiled at me with an understanding I could not quite place, but did not hesitate to answer.

“That’s a long story that I can delve into at a later date, but the truth of it is that I dealt with panic attacks before we left Zion, and I still suffer from them now from time to time. Though they are much rarer these days. I’ve had to do a lot of work in the aftermath of it all.”

“What caused them?” Again, my tongue betrayed me by speaking words I had not considered before opening my mouth.

“I was one of the kidnapped girls.” Her admission stunned me. No, stunned is too light a word for the feeling I had. I was horrified. Emotions welled up inside of me all at once that threatened to take over any sense of logic or composure.

“You were one of them?” I reiterated her words, and she simply nodded, smiling softly.

“And I’m okay. But it’s been difficult. Panic hits at strange times, and it can be hard to manage.”

“I feel just completely out of my element here, but now — I feel like I have no ground to stand on here. What they did to you? What they took from you —” Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over as the horror of it all hit me; the realization that my daughter was the same as her, had been stolen away just as she had. “I’m so sorry, Talia.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You are a victim of Zion, just as I was. And I am okay now, I promise. You will be too, in time.” Her reassurance meant more to me than any words could possibly express.

“How do I get there? How do I find my way to the healthy life I long for?” It was a plea for help, and I regretted nothing in my desperate tone.

“Time. Time and a support system. Well, to be honest, therapy doesn’t hurt either.” We both chuckled, wiping away a few errant tears that had fallen during our moment of shared experience. “I’m going to grab some tissues so we can both clean up, then we can relax for a bit longer before the kids wake up from their nap.”

She stood to fetch the tissues, and I found myself pulling my journal from my purse, needing something to do with my hands beside the incessant fidgeting that seemed to be a growing problem for me.

I didn’t have the wherewithal to actually write, so I let the pen move about the paper, drawing lines at random until they formed doodles and pictures that felt easy and calming.

“You’re quite good!” Zeke’s voice sounded from the doorway just behind me.

“Goodness!” I nearly screeched the word, my heart racing again, this time with fright at his sudden appearance.

He winced a bit as if the sound was painful, but quickly recovered. “Sorry for surprising you. Are you just a doodler, or do you enjoy art?” He joined me, sitting perpendicular in the chair beside the sofa, still leaning in and looking at my silly etchings.

“I have done a few things here and there, though nothing serious.” I shrugged his comment off nonchalantly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that had fallen from my braid.

“Well, if you ever want to tinker around with it outside of your journal, let me know.”

“Let you know?” I repeated lamely.

“Oh, yes. Zeke here is quite the artist!” Talia’s praise made him blush lightly as she rejoined us in the living room, handing me a box of tissues. Zeke was gracious enough not to comment, as I surreptitiously dabbed under my eyes to dry the last vestiges of my earlier tears before continuing.

“What kind of art do you enjoy, Zeke?” I asked, partially to distract from drying my tears, but I also found myself wildly interested. I don’t know why it struck me as strange for the beloved Temple sons to have hobbies, yet here we were.

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