Page 44 of Too Safe

I swallow past the overwhelm clogging my throat and give him a terse nod. One foot in front of the other. One step after another.

Sucking in deep, ragged breaths, I focus on the stairs. My knees wobble, and my chest burns, but I don’t stop. I finally glance up when I reach the top of the steps, only to be greeted by the judgmental gaze of a girl my age who’s adjusting her dress in the hallway a few feet away from my room.

She watches me with raised eyebrows while I dip my chin to avoid her scrutiny.

I bypass my door. It’s not really mine anyway, and I sure as hell don’t want this stranger to see me ducking in there, or worse, following me. I brush past the rooms that belong to Locke and Kendrick. Kylian said it was at the end of the hall. I just have to figure out…

“Wow,” she clips out dramatically. “He said he was going to bed. Tell him that next time, he should space out his sloppy seconds.”

She quirks an eyebrow and hits me with her best mean-girl glare. She must have been coming from Kylian’s room. The Nest.

And now I realize her comment was meant to insult me.

Frenetic energy and sheer exhaustion wage war in my mind, leaving me unable to muster a reply. Not that I’d be interested, regardless. The pressure behind my eyes that originally felt like tears is quickly morphing into the metronomic pounding of a migraine.

The signs are all there. I’m shutting down. I know what could happen next.

I have to find the Nest.

Seemingly of its own volition, my hand reaches out and turns a knob. I’m numb to the sensation of the handle in my grip. It takes an enormous amount of effort to open the door, then even more mental and physical strength to put one foot in front of the other and start yet another ascent.

The staircase is narrow: a sliver of space compared to the wide main stairway I just climbed. I’m grateful for the handrail I’m clinging to for dear life and the way it holds steady as I force out monumental effort to keep going.

There are no windows or other clues to the storm raging outside. Just the storm in here. I am the storm.

Up, up, up. I continue to climb.

I’m panting. From fear or exertion, I don’t know.

So many fucking stairs.

Desperate for even the slightest hold on reality, I count each step. Each breath. Each moment that I’m still present and alive.

When I finally, mercifully, reach the top, I’m met with another door. Do I knock? Send a text? Am I even in the right place?

I’m hovering, hand on the knob, sucking in oxygen through a narrowed airway, seeking to calm the erratic pulse thrumming through me from head to toe.

The doorknob moves, slipping out of my hand. Pressing my forehead into the solid wood, I suck in another shuddered breath, desperate to get myself under control.

I am here. This is now.

Over and over, I repeat the mantra in my head. Until it stops feeling comforting. Then I repeat it out loud.

“I am here. This is now.”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I focus on the smooth door handle again. Then suddenly, it twists, and the surface I’m leaning against disappears.

“Jo?”

My head snaps up, and I search his face, silently pleading for salvation.

“Jo? What’s wrong?”

I use the last bits of strength I possess to heave my body forward, stumbling over the final stair and practically throwing myself at Kylian.

“Whoa—whoa.”

He catches me, then extends his arms awkwardly, maintaining space between us.

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