“You comfortable?” Dex asks me.
“Mhm,” I manage to mumble, as my fingers dig into his leather jacket.
I hear the sound of others mounting their bikes, but no one is starting yet. Dex will go first. The moment I hear the sound of the motor engine running, I feel like I’m suffocating. I can’t take a breath. I pant heavily, my fingers digging even deeper into Dex’s sides. I hear his voice, but I don’t know what he’s saying. The world around me starts spinning and a moment later, everything goes dark.
Chapter 18
Theron
As soon as I see that Isabel is swaying, I get off my bike and manage to wrap my arms around her just at the right moment, preventing her from falling off of Dex’s motorbike. Her head flops to the side and she feels like a lifeless puppet. All noise dies out and Dex jumps off. I see disturbance in his eyes and I know he’s as worried as I am, as we all are.
“What happened?” he asks me, all out of breath, as if he’s been running here from far away. “One minute she’s holding onto me and the next, she’s digging into my sides, then suddenly she lets go.”
His eyes inspect the sleeping beauty in my arms, but he doesn’t say anything else. I can feel the others looking in our direction, too, expecting Isabel to open her eyes any moment, but I know this probably isn’t going to happen.
“I think she was having a panic attack,” I tell him, cradling her in my arms, like a little sleeping child. I don’t even feel her being heavy. On the contrary, she seems as light as air.
“A panic attack?” Dex repeats my words.
While I was talking to her before, I tried to see if she was showing any signs of it. I didn’t want to bother the rest of the guys with it. I believed I could do it all on my own. But she didn’t tell me anything worrisome. She seemed fine. That’s why what just happened came as such a shock to us all.
“Yes and it could also be PTSD,” I tell him finally, my mind racing to and fro, trying to come up with all the definitions, sources, manifestations and possible treatments to PTSD.
“What’s that?” he frowns, glancing at me, then at Isabel, then back at me again.
“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” I explain. “What happened to her could fall under this category.”
“OK, so what does that mean? Why is she falling unconscious now? I mean, we’re taking her home, aren’t we?” Dex doesn’t understand and I can sense confusion in his voice.
“PTSD isn’t that simple,” I try to explain. “Anything can trigger it. My best guess is that she’s feeling safe here, so her brain is connecting these shacks with protection and shelter. Now, she is leaving this place and her brain is worried that she won’t be protected anymore.”
“But we’ll protect her, she has to know that,” Dex frowned.
“Like I said, that’s not how PTSD works. It’s not logical, or reasonable.”
“So, what do we do now?”
For a few moments, there is only silence. All eyes are on her. There is no tensing in her body. Her limbs are useless, instinctively relaxed. There is nothing she is trying to suppress at the moment, as her brain is processing what’s happening. It’s like a medicinal effect, her falling unconscious. Her mind and body need to be soothed and we need to help her remember that she isn’t in any kind of danger now.
“We wake her up,” I nod, my eyes searching for Zarael. When I find him, I give him instructions. “There are a few potted plants behind my shack. Pick a few lavender flowers. You know, the purple ones.”
“Got it!” Zarael nods, then quickly runs off to do as he’s told. He returns quickly with the flowers in his hands. “Rub them over her nose,” I tell him.
The scent of lavender is one of the most powerful scents in the world. She should be gently brought back, without stress. It takes a few seconds, but she finally opens her beautiful eyes. I can see the sky reflecting in them, that spark of consciousness lighting up in them and then she lowers them towards me.
“What… happened?” she asks.
I slowly put her down and Dean rushes to grab her a chair, so she can sit down. We all circle around her, waiting to see how she is. Her fingers are trembling and I notice that her ring finger and pinkie had their nails bitten all the way to the skin.
“You lost consciousness,” I tell her. “Just when we were about to head out.”
She looks at the bikes, as if she’s trying to remember exactly what’s happened. It takes her just a moment and her face is illuminated with comprehension.
“I don’t know what happened to me,” she speaks slowly, much slower than usual, like she is still half-asleep. “I just felt nauseous suddenly, the world started swaying and I felt like I was losing my balance.”
“See?” I tell Dex.
“What is it?” she asks and I know I can’t keep this from her.