Page 13 of Darkness Tempt Me
I need to sit down.
I need to run away.
I can’t move.
“Peyton! Peyton!” Billy pulls me into a tight hug, using his hand to smooth back the curls out of my eyes. When did he come around the counter to my side of the cash register? I blink, realizing the whimpers were coming from me. His tight embrace is making it harder for me to breathe, and when his fingers tangle in my hair like a lover, I want nothing more than to put space between us.
I jolt back, mortified. “Oh god, I—I.” It’s been a really long time since I had a panic attack like this. Billy’s face comes into focus; his brows scrunched in concern. My gaze wanders over to his black eye, and I’m pretty sure it was the emptiness in his tone that triggered the attack. Maybe that and the combination of seeing my brother just the night before in a similar state.
“Can I get you anything?” Billy asks, getting back into my space and rubbing my arms. I know the gesture is meant to be soothing, but I’m too on edge, filled with too many negative feelings.
I step out of reach, and his face falls. I hold up a hand. “I’m okay. Can I get some water, please? I need to have a seat.” I walk to the back of the café with shaky feet, only vaguely aware of those around me. As I move, I clutch the backs of the empty chairs nearby, silently praying I don’t topple over. I choose a seat away from the crowd, and I turn around as I sit. I jump when I realize Billy followed me over here.
“Of course. One water coming up,” he says quickly, making my head spin. “Let me get your usual coffee for you and your boss. On the house.”
I shake my head. “No. No coffee for me. Just for my boss. Caffeine sometimes makes my attacks worse.”
Billy nods. “What about some herbal tea? Caffeine-free.”
“Okay, sure,” I say quickly, just needing some time to myself. My attack hasn’t fully passed, but I need to feel grounded, and I can’t do that with Billy buzzing around me like a bee.
Billy rushes back with water before quickly leaving again. After a few moments to myself, that strange feeling of being watched sends a chill up my spine. This is nothing like last night, where it felt like my imaginary Mavik was undressing me with his eyes. No, this is different. There’s something unsettling and creepy about this sensation. Something disturbing, like bugs crawling on the side of my face. It’s been happening more often, and it’s really starting to freak me out. I peer around, trying to capture someone in the act.
Billy’s coworker is up at the cash register already taking orders, and I notice a few nervous glances aimed my way, but nothing unusual. My face heats with embarrassment. Damn it. How long did I stand there, heart beating frantically in my chest while I whimpered like a crazy person?No, not crazy.I tell myself. I remember my therapist’s soft voice and kind words.‘It’s normal to be triggered by things others might findrandom. Panic attacks are completely expected, especially with everything you survived. Your symptoms will pass soon.’
Pulling out my phone, I call my brother, but of course, he doesn’t answer. He always used to be the person I called when I had a panic attack, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. I call the only other person who usually makes me feel safe.
I call Mavik.
“Peyton,” he says, tone smooth. “Make sure you’re in my office in ten minutes. We need to talk.”
Fuck, I must be crazy. His domineering voice and forceful command settle something inside my soul. I let out a deep sigh before slowly breathing in through my nose, holding it, then letting it out.
I don’t reply, not worried about Mavik judging me. Just clutch my phone like a lifeline while working on my deep breaths. I barely glance at Billy while he drops off my tea in front of me.
“Peyton? Tell me where you are,” Mavik says softly, the command still evident in his voice. No silly questions like ‘Are you okay?’ or ‘What’s wrong?’ Just, ‘Tell me where you are.’ Because I have no doubt that as soon as I give him my location, he’ll drop everything and be by my side in an instant.
“Peyton.”
“I’m okay.” But even my voice sounds weak and shaky to my own ears.
“Tell me five things you can see,” he commands.
I smile, glancing around. “There’s a cup of water in front of me. I see a canister of creamer. A napkin dispenser. The bell over the door. The glass display with colorful pastries inside.”
“Name four things you can touch.” His voice is rough, and I’m half tempted to tease him. Clearly, I’m already feeling better, but I continue through the grounding exercise anyway. “The soft wool of my scarf. The smooth wood of the table. The leatherymaterial of my seat. The heat of my hot tea through the paper cup.”
“Good. You’re doing so good for me, Pey. Three things you can hear.”
His praise makes my toes curl. I take another deep breath, shocked that I feel this comforted after such a big attack. “Your voice. God, has anyone ever told you how sexy your voice is?” The words tumble out of my mouth, unfiltered.
Mavik is silent for a while before there’s a soft rumble of laughter over the phone. “Two more things,” he replies, ignoring my question. “I need you to tell me two more things that you can hear.”
Does it count if I tell him I also love the way his laugh sounds? “I can hear cars honking and the hustle of traffic through the phone. Where are you?”
“What else can you hear?”
“The chiming of the bell over the door of the café.”
