Page 32 of Prove Me Wrong
Ryan made me feel comfortable, important and safe. But it was just to gain my trust before he shattered it into a million pieces like a broken vase. I believed him enough to let him manipulate me. By the time I had caught on to what he was doing…
He never did it to make me happier.
It was all a lie.
Thick bile stings in my throat as I feel my hands shaking uncontrollably. Salty sweat beads form on my temples, and my lashes mash together, fighting off the impending, overwhelming sensation that twists my stomach and riddles my body with distress. I hate this feeling, like I’m drowning, being swallowed up by the monster inside of me, preying on my weak mind. I want to be strong, to fight through the dreadful sensation, but I’m not.
I’m weak.
Hesaid so himself.
Phone slipping from my grip, I hear it thud against the floor, but make no move to retrieve it. My entire body is vibrating as acid bites at my tongue, hands going numb, chest palpitations, and breaths gasping for oxygen.
I still have no control over my panic attacks.
The intense pressure builds in my chest as if a car is crushing it. My breathing becomes so short that I feel as though I can’t suck any air into my searing lungs, as if I might choke right here on the couch. The drowning feeling becomes unbearable; my head is pushed beneath the surface, cutting off my air supply. Everything aches, burns and blurs as tears roll down uncontrollably.
I haven’t had an attack in weeks, and I shouldn’t be feeling this way with Noah.
He’s done nothing wrong.
Hyperventilating, my head hangs between my shoulders as my fingernails dig into the couch cushions. The front door opens and Gran strolls in. “Mia,” she calls out before her round eyes settle on me. She rushes over, taking my shaking hands in her firm ones. “Mia. Breathe.” Her words are calm yet forceful.
I listen to her, trying my best to control my spiralling self when she pulls me into her chest. The scent of roses fills my nose and tears slip out of my eyes as I choke on sobs.
“What happened?” Her wary tone shakes a little as I tremble in her grip.
I sniff loudly. “Noah wrote something. Something that—” More tears flood my cheeks, sliding down my neck.
I hear her swallow before asking, “What did he say?”
“He wanted to make me happier,” I wheeze out. “Ryan would say that when he—” A choke breaks mywords. “When he?—”
“Shh.” Gran pulls me impossibly closer as I fall apart in her arms. I can’t bring myself to tell her.
He’d say it after assaulting me, blaming me, saying that he did it to make me happier…
Now look at me.
I swallow and shake my head against her neck. “I’m not ready,” I say, voice cracking. My face is pushed up against her warm chest again and a hand rubs circles on my back. “I can’t do this, Gran.”
“Do what, dear?”
Sniffing again, I murmur, “I can’t let him in. Wh-what if he does something?”
Sinnett’s words crowd my mind, reminding me that most athletes aren’t honest men. That there’s only a few good ones.
What if Noah plays me like Ryan did? Do I really think he’d do such a thing to me?Honestly, I don’t, but I really can’t trust anyone anymore.
I sob again, hot tears trailing down my cheeks as Gran cradles me in her arms.
“You’re stronger than you think, Mia. You can’t let Ryan win like this.”
I repeat those words in my mind as I slowly get my breathing under control. It’s shaky and wheezy, pulse rattling my bone marrow. I dig my nails into my hands to pull myself from the pressure, cutting through the skin they’re so tight.
Ryan is winning every time I panic. Every time I think that I’m not good enough, or that I’m too broken inside, it’s like I am telling him that he was right.
No man wants something that’s used like you.
