Thirty minutes later, I pushed the door to the cottage open. A smudge of light from the TV in living room danced on the floor. A news presenter’s voice broke the silence, and Nick walked out of the room, a smile on his face. A strong smell of cologne reached my nose—a mixture of cardamom, cedar and bergamot with a hint of lavender.
My mind and body ceased to work in an instant. My heart raced, sounds muted. A black void appeared before my eyes. I rested my back against the wall, and my legs gave in.
I slid to the floor, covering my head with my hands, rocking back and forth to stop the walls from closing in.
Adrian’s face emerged from the void. A sweet, affectionate smile curved his lips.“You’re my everything, puppet.”
Anger flared his nostrils.“You fucked him?!”
Scenes changed fast. A projection of the best and worst moments of our relationship appeared before my eyes. Each still, and short clip was interrupted by a loudclickas if someone operated a vintage filmstrip projector inside my head.
Adrian’s hands on my face with our lips working in sync. His hands on my neck and thumbs digging into the skin, cutting off my air supply.
Humiliation. Love. Hatred.
Our hands interlocked. His fists clenched. Love in his eyes.
“Until my last day, until my last breath, you will be my whole life.”
Dilated pupils. Whispers. Screams.
“You think I’m fucking stupid?! I know you’re sleeping with him!”
His bedroom lit up by candlelight. Adrian’s hands caressing my naked body. Bruises, split lips, black eyes.
“You were with Ty, weren’t you?! Fucking whore!”
His tears. My tears.
“I’m sorry, puppet. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. I need you so much. I can’t do this without you.”
Bouquets of red roses. Orange prescription bottles.
All those times he pushed me to the floor, then pushed again, and again when I tried to get up. The way he held the door open and pulled my chair out.
Smiles. Eskimo kisses. Nosebleeds. Hugs. Broken ribs.
The last time he held me close all night. A rope wrapped tightly around his neck. My fight. His struggle. My limit.
Then, ashiftin my fear. Strong hands on my face, in my hair, on my arms. Firm chest behind my back. Something cold in both of my hands. Wet, round, smooth.Ice.
Warm fingers forced my palms to close. He placed my right hand on my left side, close to the heart, and left hand on my right arm. The smell of his cologne, and warmth of his body filled the void.
“I’m here,” Thomas whispered into my ear, his voice penetrating the maddening isolation. “You’re here with me, baby. Now breathe in.”
“Now breathe in,” he whispered, inhaling in sync with me through his nose. He tapped his index finger on my palm four times before exhaling through his mouth. “Remind yourself who you are, and where you are.” He bent down to kiss the nape of my neck. “And then recall this moment—my lips on your skin; the sound of my voice; the way your body relaxes under my touch.”
Thomas held me in a tight, firm grip, tapping out the rhythm of our breaths on the palm of my hand while I focused on the way his body felt against mine, the pace of his heartbeat, the softness of his skin.
We took seven deep breaths before I felt tears on my cheeks. Three more until I felt myself tremble. Another five before I noticed the time on his watch. It was seven fifty-two in the evening.
The clock on the dashboard showed quarter past seven when I parked the car. I lost half an hour. I lived through my share of panic attacks, but none of them lasted half the time.
“Give me five things you can see,” Thomas muttered, pressing his warm cheek to mine. “Five things.”
My eyes fluttered open. I started with the things closest, adjusting to the brightness. “The floor.” My throat was dry, voice coarse. I swallowed, and my gaze moved further away from the safety cocoon Thomas had me wrapped in. “My bag… Your keys. Nick. Amelia.”
He pressed me closer to his chest. “Now four things you can touch.”