“Well,” I take a deep breath, trying to come up with the best possible way to break the news to her, “you’ve been under a lot of stress. It’s understandable, with everything that’s happened. I think it’s possible that you have post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“What?” her eyes widen with shock and disbelief.
“I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s actually very common when someone experiences a terrifying event, like you did. I don’t know if you’ve had any flashbacks or nightmares about it.”
“No, not that I remember,” she shakes her head, sounding honest. She isn’t lying. She has no reason to.
“Well, maybe I’m wrong,” I give both her and Dex the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I’m really wrong and she just isn’t feeling well. There’s a way to determine this. “Maybe I’m blowing all this out of proportion and I apologize for scaring you.”
“I know you’re not trying to scare me,” she suddenly adds. “But I really don’t know what happened.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” I reply. I pause for a moment, the entire woods around me growing silent with me. “We simply try leaving again.”
I look at Dex, but his eyes aren’t focused on me. They rest on her, waiting for her reaction. She doesn’t say anything for a while, like she’s thinking whether it’s a good idea or not. I’ve never done anything like this and honestly, I’m scared. I think I’m more scared than she is, more scared than any of the others, as they all expect me to know exactly what I’m doing. So, I wait and try to convince myself that we’re doing the right thing here.
“I know you guys have a plan that you need to follow,” she tells us, addressing everyone. “Let’s head out. I’m sure it was nothing. Just stress, probably.”
&n
bsp; “Probably,” Dex is quick to add, placing his hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move, she just smiles a little sadly and my heart aches.
So, we do the whole thing again. At least, we try to. We all watch as Dex sits on his bike and Isabel slowly walks over to him. But her step becomes slower and I see her fingers are trembling even more noticeably now. Her lips are parted and her breathing is quick, shallow. I sense another attack coming on, but I don’t want to jump to her aid, unless she really needs me. I watch as she pushes herself to keep on going, but she is growing increasingly paler and it looks like she won’t even reach Dex’s bike. He’s turned with his back to her, but his head is looking to his back, at her.
Seconds are long. Too long. It feels like the whole world is in slow-motion, with us in it.
Chapter 19
I don’t know what’s happening to me. I know I’m walking, but it’s like my legs aren’t my own. I want them to stop, but they keep advancing, one step at a time. With each step, my fear increases. I can feel the bottle filling up, slowly but surely, until there is just one single drop left and once it’s in, I don’t know what’s going to happen. My thoughts are like angry bees, buzzing all around, with no intent or purpose, accelerating inside my head. I desperately want them to slow down, but they aren’t listening.
I can’t breathe properly. Gasping for air, I know what will come next. I’m about to black out. That will happen, unless I manage to stop my legs from moving forward and just keep them in one place. I can’t black out. I can’t. This isn’t a panic attack. This isn’t post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m going home. But, despite all these thoughts which I try to repeat over and over again, my heart still hammers away like a madman. I look around and the ground beneath my feet starts to spin. At first, the hurricane was inside of me, but now it looks like it managed to find a way out and it’s all around me, threatening to swallow me whole. My fears are tumbling inside my brain, like in a dryer. Fragmented images of what happened cut through my memory like sharp glass. This resembles some crazy carousel which is going too fast and I want to get off, but it’s broken and there is no getting off until the ride ends on its own. All I can do is squat down, curling my knees upward in a fetal position and closing my eyes.
The world is covered in a lack of light and it manages to soothe me a little. I want to call out to someone, but there is no familiar name inside my head. It’s like I forgot all my friends, all my family. There is no one to call for help, they are all too far away. Would they even help? Doubt creeps inside my mind, like a dirty enemy, with its claws digging into my security, poking holes which I know I won’t be able to fill up with anything.
I feel physically sick, like I’m about to vomit. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My eyes are still closed. I don’t smell the woods any longer. It’s just a stench of dead leaves, a dead wet dog lying in the ground. I can smell it. Rotting away. I try to breathe, it’s hard. That claw’s got my heart in its grip and it’s not letting go. The darkness is creeping up on me, catching up. It’s not my friend any longer. It’s an enemy. It wants to hurt me. It wants to take me away and all I want to do is stay here. It’s safe here. No one will ever hurt me here.
I remember a name, but I can’t speak. I feel like there is an invisible hand that is covering my mouth, like there is a rope all around my body and as soon as I try to take a deep breath, my ribs feel the pressure. There is no expansion. I can’t breathe. I can only sip air through a thin straw. There are sounds I hear, but they seem far away, too far away for me to hear them properly. I want to run back to that shack where I woke up the first time here. I’m paralyzed…
At that moment, I feel a touch on my shoulder, a light that shines through a thousand darkness’s. My eyelids are heavy. I’m getting sleepier. But that touch isn’t letting go. Keep touching me. Bring me back…
Chapter 20
Dex
I bury my face into my hands. Fucking fuck. Now what?
“I left her with Zarael in my shack,” I hear Theron’s voice and raise my head to him. “She’s pretty shaken up.”
All around us, our brothers are confused. Are we going or are we staying? They’re all looking at me and I don’t know what to tell them. For the first time ever, I fucking don’t know what to do. I see a pile of dirt close by and I kick it in anger.
“Fucking Hell,” I squeeze through clenched teeth, feeling the need to scream.
“Any ideas?” he asks.
“Do I fucking look like I have any ideas?” I snort. I don’t even look at him.
We have a plan and we need to stick to it. The deliveries need to be made. Our contracts need to be respected and upheld. Otherwise, we’ll lose all our credibility.
“She can’t go,” he tells me again. I know he’s right. I also know it’s not his fault and I shouldn’t be taking it out on him. My anger issues sometimes get the best of me, but my brothers know me well enough not to hold it against me.