Chapter 9 #2
"You're not stupid." He cut me off, voice carrying unshakable conviction. "You were hurt. And now, you're going to learn not to let those memories control you."
He released me, leaning back slightly to give me space, but those deep brown eyes remained locked on mine.
"You want to live like this forever?" He asked, voice calm yet carrying undeniable force. "Sleeping with every light on, afraid of elevators, afraid of any enclosed space?"
I bit my lip and looked down.
"I tried." My voice was small. "I saw therapists. Took medication. Did treatment. Nothing worked."
"Because you couldn't do it alone." He lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You needed someone with you. And now—"
He paused.
"Now you have me."
I looked at him, throat tight.
"You want to help me?"
"I will help you." He corrected, tone brooking no argument. "But first, you have to trust me."
I stared into his eyes, those eyes so deep in the dim light.
Remembered him kicking down that storage room door. The warmth of his hand holding mine now.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Good girl." He pressed a kiss to my hair.
God.
I held my breath. As he stood, I couldn't help touching the spot he'd kissed.
He walked to the farthest wall sconce.
"I'm going to turn off one light." His hand rested on the switch. "Just one. If you panic, tell me. I'll turn it back on immediately."
My heart rate spiked. My breathing quickened.
"Nadia." His voice made me look up. "Look at me."
I locked eyes with him.
"I'm right here." He said. "I'm not going anywhere. The door is open. You can leave anytime. You're not trapped. Understand?"
I nodded, fingers gripping the sheets.
"Ready?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes."
Click.
The wall sconce went dark.
The room dimmed. Panic surged instantly, that door starting to slam in my mind—
Footsteps in the darkness, then a hand quickly clasped mine.
"Breathe." His voice cut through the illusions, steady as an anchor. "With me. Inhale."
I obeyed, fingers clutching his hand desperately.
"Exhale."
My breathing gradually steadied.
"Good." He said, thumb tracing circles on my hand. "Now tell me, what do you see?"
"I—" My voice shook. "The chandelier. The bedside lamp. And—you."
"Right." He said, squeezing my hand. "You see light. You see me. You're not alone, are you?"
"No," I repeated. "I'm not alone."
"Never will be."
We sat like that. He didn't rush, didn't command, just held my hand, his steady presence telling me—he was here.
Minutes later, I realized with shock that the panic hadn't consumed me like it usually did.
"I—" I couldn't believe it. "I'm okay. I'm not that scared."
"Because you're braver than you think." His eyes shone with pride. "Want to try another?"
I hesitated. The darkness was still there, that door still lurking in the back of my mind, but—
I nodded.
He stood and turned off another sconce.
The room grew darker. Panic tried to climb up again—
"Look at me." He returned to the bed's edge. "Just look at me, Nadia."
I stared into his deep brown eyes like a lifeline.
"Where are you?" He asked.
"In bed."
"Who's with you?"
"You."
"Where's the door?"
I turned to look. "There. It's open."
"Good." He said. "If you want to leave, you can. Anytime. No one can trap you. Say it again."
"No one can trap me," I repeated, feeling the vise around my chest loosen slightly.
"I did it." Wonder and disbelief filled my voice. "I actually did it."
"Of course you did." A genuine smile curved his lips.
Looking at him, gratitude surged through me, along with something else I didn't dare examine closely.
"Roman?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you—" I bit my lip. "Can you stay? Tonight?"
His expression softened further.
"Of course, little girl."
He kicked off his shoes and lay down on the other side of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance over the covers.
"Sleep," he said. "I'm right here."
I lay down, pulled up the blanket, and turned to face him. Even in the dim light, I could make out his outline clearly.
"The lights?" He asked.
I thought about the earlier exercise, about him saying "you're braver than you think."
"Turn them off." I heard myself say.
He looked at me, surprise flashing in his eyes, then his lips curved.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.
Darkness fell.
My heart rate spiked for a moment, my chest tightening—
"Nadia." His voice in the darkness. "I'm here."
"I know." My voice still trembled.
"Give me your hand."
I reached out. Over the blanket, he took my hand.
"I'm here. No one can hurt you." He said.
The night wind battered the floor-to-ceiling windows with low howls.
In the distance, Chicago's neon lights bled into surreal patches beyond the thick glass, unable to penetrate this room lit by a single dim sconce.
Heavy blackout curtains blocked all outside noise, isolating this space into a quiet island.
In the darkness, his breathing became my only guide. Steady, strong, like the rhythm of waves.
My breathing slowly matched his rhythm. My heartbeat settled.
The darkness remained, but it wasn't so terrifying anymore.
"Goodnight, Nadia." He said softly.
"Goodnight," I whispered back.
I closed my eyes.
This time, no nightmares came.
Only his breathing, like the tide, washing over parched sand again and again.
Sunlight pierced through the black blackout curtains, stretching across the plush carpet in a slanted beam.
When I opened my eyes, I was confused for several seconds.
No nightmares. No waking up drenched in cold sweat. No suffocating sensation.