Chapter 20
My breath comes in ragged gasps as I race blindly through the downpour. Fat raindrops pelt my skin, mixing with the hot tears streaming down my cheeks. Sobs threaten to rupture through my chest but get trapped in my tightening throat.
I’m spiralling, my vision blurring around the edges. It feels like hands are wrapped around my windpipe, squeezing until black spots dance across my eyes. I try desperately to get air into my burning lungs.
In my panic, I’ve lost all sense of direction. The quaint shopfronts have given way to a maze of narrow back alleys. I spot a darkened gap between two brick buildings and stumble into its refuge, my shoulders scraping the walls.
I sink down, heedless of the filthy puddle soaking through my clothes. Tremors wrack my soaked body as I hug my knees to my chest. I try to breathe, to grasp at any lifeline that could pull me from this abyss of panic. But the same thoughts keep assaulting me like the endless rain.
You deserve this. You deserve this. You deserve this.
Logan’s pained expression flashes behind my clenched eyelids. My chest constricts further at the memory of our fight, of the way I pushed him into lashing out.
He’s right. This has to be why Jasper left. It’s why Dad left. It’s why no one wants you. It’s why you’re going to die alone.
I desperately long for the calming caress of fingers through my hair, for strong arms to anchor me against the storm raging inside. But I’m alone in this alley with only the cold indifference of brick and mortar bearing witness to my unravelling.
The panic rises, threatening to pull me under. I dig my fingernails into my palms, clinging to consciousness. But the walls seem to press closer, trapping me in this waking nightmare. My erratic wheezes echo mockingly back at me as I fight for air that won’t come.
I claw desperately at my constricting throat, my ragged nails leaving angry red trails on my skin. I’m drowning on dry land. The world narrows down to my strained attempts to draw breath into my spasming lungs.
In some distant corner of my mind, I know I need to lower my heart rate. But crippling waves of panic continue battering me against the rocks, allowing no respite.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the vertiginous spinning of the alley. But instead of steadying darkness, vivid memories assault me. My dad’s voicemail taunting me in the night. Jasper turning away with that last look of disappointment that shattered my heart. Logan’s pained eyes as we exchanged cruel blows.
Oh God, Logan … A fresh wave of anguish washes over me. I’d give anything to rewind time and take back that entire conversation. Because despite our fight, there’s nowhere in the world I feel safer than wrapped in his arms. No one who has ever come close to understanding the storms that rage inside me—except him.
But I destroyed that shelter, ruined that peace. Like I ruin everything.
And now he’s going to leave me.
The crushing weight of this truth feels like concrete blocks piling upon my chest, pushing out the last bits of air. Spots burst across my vision, consciousness slipping from my grasp.
A small part of me wants nothing more than to let the darkness take over. To release the iron grip I still have on awareness and let the panic’s riptide carry me under. Because it hurts. It hurts so fucking much I want to die in this moment.
But some primal instinct rebels against that fate. Through sheer force of will, I force myself to draw in a shuddering breath, then another. Each inhale fuels the dying embers of fight still left inside me.
As I cling stubbornly to consciousness, a sudden memory takes shape behind my closed lids. Thirteen-year-old Logan guiding me gently through the raging storm of my first panic attack. His voice a lifeline pulling me back from the brink, my hand clasped firmly in his.
In this moment, I need that Logan more than ever. But this time, I have no one to save me from myself.
As another tremor wracks my body, I know I can’t endure this alone. My first instinct is to call Logan, to hear his soothing voice reminding me to just breathe. But the memory of our vitriolic fight still rings in my ears. After everything we flung at each other, I don’t deserve his comfort right now.
My thumb hovers over my mom’s number next. A wave of guilt washes over me. She worries so much. And she’s happy now, finally past the way my dad left her. Do I really want to disturb that peace?
But the walls of the alley seem to creep closer with each ragged breath, reinforcing that I can’t handle this on my own. With a resigned exhale, I grab my phone with trembling fingers.
Mom picks up on the second ring, her cheerful voice piercing through the deafening storm in my mind. “Avery! How are you, honey?”
Hearing the smile in her voice, I almost choke on the lump in my throat. She sounds so happy, oblivious to the darkness I’m about to drag her into.
“M-mom,” I gasp out. I squeeze my eyes shut as if I can hide from the anxiety etched into that one word.
Silence on her end. When she speaks again, all traces of lightness have vanished. “Avery, what’s wrong?” Tension vibrates through the phone line between us. “Talk to me. Are you hurt?”
I cling to the phone like a castaway to driftwood. But no words come out, just halting breaths that catch in my throat. I can picture Mom’s face creasing in helpless worry at my silence. My chest constricts further, shame and panic swirling together in a toxic cocktail.
“I want to die, I want to die,” is all that can come out of my mouth. “Mom, make it stop, please make it stop—” A scream erupts out of me. “No, no, no, no, no …”
“Avery, I’m here,” I hear her say, but she might as well be on another planet. “Avery, listen to me. Listen to my voice. I’m here. Honey, my sweet girl, please, hear me. Mom is here …”
“Why did he leave?” The words come out strangled, half a scream, half a sob. “Why doesn’t he love me?”
“Who? It’s okay, honey, I’m here … I love you … so, so much …”
Another violent scream rips out of my chest. “He’s gone, and he never loved me, did he, Mom? And no one ever will. It hurts, Mom, make it stop, it hurts, please, Mom, make it stop …”
I don’t know how long I stay like this, with Mom whispering back to me in my ear, worlds away. I can hear her voice break, and know I’ve broken her heart because I’m so far away and there’s nothing she can do while I’m begging her for help. And it makes it hurt all the more.
“I just want to die,” I keep repeating, my voice getting weaker until they’re no longer words—until whatever is coming out of my mouth means nothing except pain.
From afar, I can hear her voice telling me to breathe. It takes an eternity before I can listen, before my mind decides to obey and let my body know what to do. Slowly, breath by breath, I come back to myself, feeling my entire body tremble with the aftermath. I can hardly feel the wetness of the rain still pouring down on me.
“That’s it,” Mom continues. Somehow, her voice is clearer now, closer. “You’re doing good, honey. Keep breathing. That’s it.”
My breaths are getting longer, deeper. And the storm that was screeching at full force in my mind begins to calm down. So does my heart. Ever so slowly, the panic dissipates, and I’m left with nothing but the stark melancholy of the aftermath.
I don’t even hear his footsteps as he walks up to me. But he’s there, crouching near me—he’s real, and he’s there, and he has found me. “Avery,” Logan whispers, his eyes pained as he takes a good look at me. He turns his hand while his other arm wraps around my shoulders. “Hand me the phone.”
Too stunned to argue, I take the phone away from my ear and hand it over to him. Logan sets it on his ear and doesn’t waste a moment. “She’s okay,” he says, his voice a little unstable. “I’ve got her. She’s not alone. She’s going to be okay.”
There’s silence while, on the other line, I assume Mom asks who she’s speaking to. Logan locks eyes with me and gives me a comforting smile. “It’s Logan.” More silence on the other end of the line. Then, I hear Mom’s voice say something, and Logan repeats, “It’s going to be okay. Hmm-mmm. Yes, I will. Okay.” Then he puts the phone down, and his entire focus shifts to me.
“Avery, I’m here,” he says right before trying to pull me up. “Let’s get you in the car. It’s getting cold.” I let him manipulate my body into standing up, but my legs are so shaky I have to lean against him. My body hasn’t fully recovered from this panic attack, and neither has my mind.
The rain keeps pouring down on us with no mercy. Now I’m starting to feel my body again, and Logan is right. It’s cold. It’s getting late.
I shiver against him.
“I can’t apologize enough for what I said,” he begins. His hand softly rubs my back. “I just want to be here for you, if you’ll let me.”
I’m no longer mad. I don’t know how I feel. I’m just exhausted at this point. Instead of saying anything, I just nod, my head still leaning against his chest. He gets it, and he doesn’t say another word until I’m safely tucked in his car, away from the rain.
When Logan is back in the driver’s seat, he starts fiddling with the controls to get the car warmed up. “I wish I had a towel or something,” he says as he looks at the back seat. “I guess I’d better just drive you back home and get you warmed up.”
Tears well up in my eyes. These aren’t the desperate sobs of the panic attack; they’re the quieter aftermath of the wave of sorrow that always hits me after. “I’m so sorry, Logan,” I begin. “About everything. About pushing too hard.”
“No, no,” Logan argues. He cups the side of my face, looks into my eyes, then gently puts his lips on mine. He kisses me softly, sweetly, and it makes my chest burn with regret for everything I’ve done.
Too soon, he pulls back without letting go of my face. “Don’t worry about that right now. Who cares? I know I don’t. Just focus on you. Keep taking deep breaths.”
I listen to him and close my eyes as I keep breathing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I fall into a rhythm, feeling his thumb stroke my cheek ever so softly.
I’m interrupted by my phone’s ringtone. And I’m about to completely ignore it until something tells me to just look.
So I reach into my pocket and freeze when the word ‘Dad’ is reflected back at me.