Chapter 7 Josie
JOSIE
The frustration wouldn’t leave my system even after trying to calm down, and eventually, I decided to put it to use.
We were less than a week away from Thanksgiving, and even though we were cooking all of the classic Thanksgiving foods, Vivian still wanted to have the lemon meringue pie as well.
And I’d feigned confidence when she asked me only a day ago if I was ready to bring it back out.
So now I was standing in the kitchen at ten-thirty at night, whipping my frustrations into egg whites.
But when the third batch of egg whites didn’t form properly, I felt the hopelessness, desperation, anxiety, and guilt wash over me.
Before I could stop it, my vision darkened and tunneled in. My chest began aching with the familiar mixture of being both crushed and cracked open at the same time.
I sank to the floor as the sobs erupted.
I knew what was happening. I was no stranger to panic or anxiety attacks. I’d been on Lexapro since high school.
But it didn’t mean I could stop them from coming. The only thing I could do was ride through them and try to use some coping mechanisms during it.
In. Hold. Out slowly. In. Hold. Out slowly.
Flatten your feet. Dig your toes into the ground. Focus on what you can feel.
Let the energy out through your hands, but don’t rub your face too much.
Mostly, I was focusing on breathing.
I couldn’t do much more at the moment. Even breathing was half-hearted. I’d been bottling up everything for so long that it was an avalanche at this point.
And I didn’t know where my emergency medicine was.
Thoughts rattled in stereo in my head as I rocked myself back and forth on the kitchen linoleum for who knows how long.
Then, a familiar voice slowly began cutting through.
“Josie. Josie!” Killian had gotten home at some point.
I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t even move or look at him.
“Josie!” he called again, but his voice was much closer this time.
Suddenly, his arms were around me, and he was sitting beside me on the floor, pulling me to him.
I collapsed in his lap, letting everything continue to ricochet in my body.
“Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Killian repeated as he brushed the hair from his face and continued running his hand through my hair. “It’s okay.”
Normally, those two words would send me spiraling further, ignited with frustration and even anger sometimes, but it didn’t happen with Killian. Something about his tone had a soothing effect instead.
He held on to me, doing the breathing exercises with me until I felt my system finally begin to relax.
“I—I’m sorry.” I muttered, embarrassed.
“Josie, don’t you say that.” Killian wrapped his hands around my cheeks and pulled my face to look at him. “Now, do you have Clonazepam or anything like that? I know the panic attack already happened, but it should still help with the after effects.”
I was shocked to hear how knowledgeable he seemed to be on the whole matter. “Um, yeah, but I don’t know where it is.”
“You stay right here.”
“Where are you going?”
Killian started to stand, but didn’t let go of me until he absolutely had to. “I’m grabbing mine from my room.”
He ran off and then reappeared within moments, handing me his own prescription bottle for the same emergency medicine.
“You have anxiety, too?”
He slowly nodded. “For as long as I can remember.”
He settled back on the ground with me after handing me a drink. I tossed back a pill and then leaned my head back against the cabinets. We sat there in a comfortable silence for several minutes.
“Josie, you know you don’t have to be strong all the time, right?”
“But if I’m not, this happens.”
“Our unfortunate reality is that this will happen whether we try to be strong all the time or not. And I think you already know that holding things in can actually make it worse.”
I sheepishly nodded my head, fiddling with my fingernails so I didn’t have to look at him.
But Killian grabbed my chin and gently pulled up until I was looking at him. “Josie, talk to me.”
I shook my head, but he held on firmly.
“No, don’t do this anymore. Don’t keep bottling it up.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t open up or can’t open up to me?”
I looked away.
“Josie, I’m not the bad guy. I know I haven’t really given you many chances to trust me, but you can. And honestly, I’m willing to bet that I’m one of the only people around here who knows what you’re experiencing.”
I nodded slightly.
Do I even hate him anymore? After all, it has been over a decade. And he doesn't seem like that Ian anymore. He's Killian, the guy I never fully understood before. The guy who seems to understand me. And care about me.
“Josie, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
"How are you so chipper all the damn time? Isn't it exhausting?"
"Honestly? Yes. It is. But it keeps me from focusing on all the bad."
"Like what?"
"Like my mom dying. And how much I miss her and all the regrets I have. Or how I don't think I can live up to her and what she was capable of. Of how lonely I get all the damn time."
“I know you’ve heard it a million times, probably, but you are incredibly talented. Your mom made damn sure all of us in town knew it.”
“How would you know? You won’t try my food when I ask you to.”
Killian shrugged. “That’s my secret for now.”