But the scream only triples the panic that rises to a high pitch in my head.
“Kaaaaaaai!” I scream again at the top of my voice, my vocal cords ripping.
The view gets blurry as my eyes well up with tears.
I am panting.
My chest is rising.
The walls are closing in.
My entire body starts shaking.
I hear the voice.
Somewhere.
It seems like it’s all around me.
“How does it feel, Callie?”
I whip around, trying to find the source.
And I see a blurry silhouette.
I wipe my eyes with my palm and stare at Kai as he stands on one of the rock landings about thirty feet away. Just staring at me. Like he just appeared there from nowhere.
“This is how I felt four years ago,” he says.
His words are quiet, but the sound of them is intensified by the echo of the hollow cave.
“When you disappeared,” he goes on, but his voice floats in and out because blood pounds in my ears. “When we should’ve talked about what happened. But you left me to deal with the consequences.”
Tears start rolling down my eyes.
It’s not fair.
Heis not fair.
The panic is still there.
His words slice my heart like a razor.
But he is here.
Alive.
And more than the profound feeling of loss and horror that comes with it, I feel relief.
“That’s how it feels,” he goes on. “When the person you tried to be good to leaves you behind.”
I try to stop crying, but the tears keep coming, rolling down my cheeks.
That’s the thing with traumas. Anything—a sound, a word—can trigger the dark memories on the most peaceful day and in the most cheerful moment and descend on you like an exploded volcano.
My chest shakes with sobs.
I feel so weak and guilty and scared.