Текст книги "Follow Me Back"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

chapter

twenty-six

maxx

hitting rock bottom was easy.

It’s the climbing back up that I was finding to be near impossible.

My life had made so much sense back when I could take a few pills and pretend that the stuff that I really had to worry about—school, Landon, paying bills—didn’t matter.

Because when life got tough I had the best friend in the world to make it all better.

And she was always there when I needed her.

I missed her.

The drugs.

Even now when I was trying to live the right sort of life, I found that when I went to sleep at night it was with the memory of her taste in my mouth.

But when I woke up, the first thing I saw was Aubrey’s face in my mind, and that helped me get out of bed and walk through the rest of my day, firm in the knowledge that I was better off without her. The pills.

But then the night would come and I’d miss her all over again.

And it wasn’t just the drugs and the high. It was the club. And the euphoric sense of power that came from being X. I missed Compulsion. I missed knowing I mattered and that I was important.

But now I had Aubrey. And Landon, whose icy demeanor was gradually thawing. And my art that was slowly evolving into a real passion. I still stung from the knowledge that I might never be able to make money off it the way I wanted to. But I loved it for what it was: the only escape I could count on right now, when I had denied myself the one I really wanted.

That had to be enough for me now. And it was. In my heart I knew that. But in the dark hours before sleep, the vicious hunger was my only company and I wanted so much more.

“How’s school going?” I asked Landon on our now daily phone call. For the first few weeks, my brother had been distant. Even after we had made headway during my visit, I knew he was purposefully keeping me at arm’s length.

However, I was persistent. It was one of my better qualities, actually. And even though giving him space may have been the more considerate thing to do, I couldn’t sit back and wait for him to come around.

So I had pestered. I had bothered. I hadn’t let up in the slightest. It was my vow after leaving rehab to not allow either Landon or Aubrey to slip out of my life again.

I had called my brother every day until he answered and begrudgingly spoke to me. It was still uncomfortable, but we were getting there.

“Not bad. Trying to finish up my end-of-the-year art project,” Landon answered vaguely. I could hear him banging around in the background and tried not to get frustrated by his lack of engagement.

“Oh yeah? What’s your project on?” I asked, pulling details out of my brother the way I could imagine pulling teeth. Slowly and painfully.

“You know. Art stuff,” Landon said. There was a muffled sound, and I could hear Landon speaking to someone on the other end.

“Why don’t you explain the art stuff then,” I said through gritted teeth. I loved my brother. But his teenage resentment, even if it was totally deserved, was frustrating.

“Just some three-dimensional piece I have to work on. Look, I’ve got to go. I’m hanging out with some friends. I’ll call you later,” Landon said distractedly.

“Sure, Lan. But I’d really like to see you this week. Maybe we could grab something to eat. I’ll even take you to that pizza place you get such a hard-on for,” I joked, forcing a laugh.

Landon snorted. “No, you’re the one that gets a chubby for the Hawaiian. Don’t put that on me.”

I chuckled. “Whatever, man,” I muttered.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good. Maybe Friday. You’re paying, though,” Landon said, and while he still sounded distant, I knew that he, like me, was trying in the only way that he could.

“Friday it is. I’ll swing by and get you after school. We can go by the mall and get you that new Xbox controller I owe you.” I was clutching desperately, but I’d say and do just about anything to get my brother to stop looking at me like I was a failure.

“It’s about time,” Landon said. “I’ve been collecting interest, and I think you owe me a game or two as well.”

I laughed again, though this time it was strained. I had broken Landon’s game controller months ago in a freak Call of Duty accident. I pulled out my wallet and opened it. I could almost imagine flies buzzing around its vacant emptiness. I was broke, but I’d scrounge up the money somehow if it meant spending time with Landon.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, though sounding a lot less enthusiastic than I had before.

“Okay, Maxx, I’ll see you Friday after school. Later.”

I dropped my phone onto the table and stared down at my empty wallet. I’d get paid on Friday, but my coffee shop wages were barely covering my electric bill. I was a month behind in my rent, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my skeevy landlord would be handing me an eviction notice. I had whittled away the last of my savings, and I was living off fumes by this point.

As if on cue, there was a pounding from the front of my apartment. “Hey, we need to talk,” Marco said, pushing past me. I clenched my teeth.

“I thought we were done talking,” I said, closing the door.

Marco headed into the kitchen and began to open up the cupboards. “You need to go shopping, there ain’t crap to eat in here,” he said, slamming the doors closed. He grabbed a stale bag of chips from the counter and started stuffing his face.

“Why the fuck are you here, Marco? If you’re not going to give me grief, then I can’t think we have anything to say to each other,” I said shortly.

“Damn, when did I become your public enemy number one? You and me have always been tight. Now I’m starting to feel like a stalky ex-bitch trying to get you to call me back. That stuff don’t fly with me.” Marco spoke around a mouthful of chips. Dude had zero manners. It was disgusting.

“Chew with your goddamned mouth closed, you’re grossing me out.” I narrowed my eyes at him, wary and on guard.

“So, we had the club at the industrial complex on Delany last weekend,” he said suddenly, changing the subject completely.

“Okay. So?” I asked, not getting his point.

“What do you think of the location?”

I thought about the place he was talking about and shrugged. “It seems way too obvious for one. Too out in the open. Did the police show up?” I had to ask.

Marco upended the chip bag into his mouth and chewed noisily. “Yep, around midnight. A bunch of people got busted for possession, and Eric got caught fucking an underage chick in one of the back rooms. Gash is pissed.”

I wasn’t surprised in the least. I knew the location was a bad one. Too public.

“Who was the scout, and is he still breathing?” I chuckled, knowing all too well how Gash would respond to that sort of screwup.

“It was some newbie that Gash brought in. I think the guy was attached to one of his side ventures. Not a whole lot of brains obviously. As for the breathing part, I really don’t give enough of a shit to find out.” Marco crunched the bag in his hand and threw it toward the trash can, missing it completely. Of course he didn’t bother to pick it up.

“Sucks for Gash,” I said unsympathetically.

“Well, what do you think about coming back?”

I wanted to roll my eyes. Marco was one dense fucker. “I’m not slinging that shit—”

“Yeah, yeah, heard you loud and clear. I’m talking about coming back as a scout. Gash knows you’re the best. He’s willing to pay you pretty well to do it, too. A lot more than you were making before.” Marco sniffed and gave my sad apartment a disgusted look. “And it looks like you could use the extra scratch. This place is depressing.”

I opened my mouth to shoot down the offer but stopped.

Because the idea was really tempting.

“Come on, Gash isn’t asking you to dirty your pretty little hands. Just find the location. Maybe show up every now and then and just be your badass self, dude. Compulsion is your playground, man, you know you miss it,” Marco said with a smirk.

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, knowing the offer was almost too easy. Too perfect. There had to be a catch. There always was with Gash.

“How about this. I have to go out and find a spot tonight. Right now, actually. Why don’t you come with me? You’ve always had a better eye for the shady shit than I did. It’ll be like old times.” Marco pulled his keys out of his pocket and nodded his head toward the door.

Just like old times.

What could it hurt?

It’s not like I was going to the club. I wasn’t going to put myself back into a situation that could trigger me.

So why not?

I looked down at the newspaper on the coffee table opened to the want ads.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gash is going to be stoked,” Marco said with a grin as we pulled away from an old mill on the outskirts of town. It was a spot I had found months ago but knew instantly it was perfect for the club. It was out of the way. It was quiet. And best of all, it was far away from the police.

Gash would love it.

“Yeah, well, you just have to know where to look for these places,” I said noncommittally. The truth was that I had enjoyed doing this small thing that had once been a part of my life.

Though it made me crave more than I should. More than was good for me.

“So why don’t you come back? Just to do the scouting thing. You don’t need to do the other stuff unless you want to,” Marco proposed, beating the subject to death. He had repeated this same sentiment at least a dozen times in the two short hours it took us to find the spot for Compulsion. He should have recorded himself so he’d stop wasting his damn breath.

“God, you’re like a fucking broken record, Polo,” I moaned, hating to admit how appealing his suggestion was.

I already found myself justifying it in every way that I could.

I need the money.

It’s better than drudging it at a crappy minimum-wage job.

I don’t have to even go to the club. I wouldn’t be putting myself back in a position where I’d be tempted to do anything like what had gotten me into trouble before.

Marco sensed my hesitation and grinned, knowing he had me. He must have been happy with my lack of denial, because he didn’t threaten to make me swallow my teeth for using my patented piss-off-Marco nickname.

“Yeah, but you want to do it. I just don’t see what the big fucking deal is. You’ve done a total one eighty and it makes no sense. You want to finally tell me what happened? What made you go all straight edge?” he asked me, parking in front of the convenience store where I lived.

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

“Maybe I’m just sick of playing skeevy douche bag,” I told him.

Marco snorted. “But you’re the fucking king of skeevy douche bags, dude.”

“You really are asking for my fist to make nice with your face,” I said.

“Whatever. I’ll come by next week and bring you your cash. Then we can do this all over again. Should be a blast,” Marco said, then made a high-pitched squeal.

“I haven’t said I’ll do it,” I pointed out.

“You haven’t said you won’t either,” Marco threw back.

I felt it. That moment when I started to move backward was almost imperceptible, but it was there all the same. I felt almost powerless to stop it.

“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed finally.

“Cool, man. It’ll be good to have you back,” he said, and he sounded like he actually meant it.

“Sure,” I responded, and knew that deep down I agreed with him.

I walked back up to my apartment and picked up the letters that had been delivered through the mail slot. Bills. And more bills. In a sudden flash of rage I crumpled them into a ball and tossed them across the room. I sat down on the couch and turned on the television, only to find static. I tried to flip the channel, but they were all the same.

I figured that somewhere in that pile of overdue notices was my cable bill. Unpaid.

I turned off the television and threw the remote against the wall. I watched with satisfaction as it smashed into pieces, the batteries rolling across the floor.

I picked up the newspaper I had left on the coffee table. There was nothing there. Nothing for a guy with limited work experience and no college degree. Even with the financial aid I had scraped together to cover the rest of my classes, I’d still be short to cover the total cost. I was getting really tired of worrying about money and whether I’d be forced to eat ramen for the fifth night in a row. Or whether I’d have enough to help Landon the way I wanted to.

How did I think I’d ever be able to start a life with Aubrey if I had nothing real to offer her? I was slowly becoming a pathetic fool living on delusional dreams and nothing else. I thought of Gash’s offer to come back to the club, and I knew I had very few choices. And having no options was a dangerous position for me to be in.

I’m still here, Maxx. In the back of your drawer. I’m not going anywhere.

The voice teased me. The need crawled like a snake up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I got to my feet and went into the bathroom, quickly running the water in the sink. I splashed cold water on my face and rubbed my eyes.

I braced myself against the smooth porcelain of the base and stared at the man looking back at me from the mirror. I wished I could say I liked the person I saw there. But I couldn’t.

Sure, my eyes were clear. Gone was the sickly sallow pallor of my skin. I had gained some weight since my stint in rehab, mostly because I was eating cheap shitty food full of fat and chemicals, because that was all I could afford.

But the person I saw there, in the smeared glass, looked tired and lost and more than a little depressed.

He looked defeated.

I pushed away from the counter and rushed back to my bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I ripped open the drawer and pulled out my socks and boxers, throwing them onto the floor. I found the tiny plastic bag I had put there weeks before. The two pills taunted me.

I wanted them so much it hurt. I wanted to cry and shout and kick shit. Then I found myself running back down the hallway with that bag clenched tight in my fist, as though the devil himself were chasing me.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. I dumped the remaining contents of the bag into the water and with shaking hands flushed. I fell to my side, curling my knees to my chest, and sobbed.

I hated myself for still wanting them, and for being so weak that I had almost given in.

Most of all I hated myself for the brief moment when I had felt that those drugs were my only choice. That they were all I needed.

Trembling and sick, I crawled out to the living room and found my phone. I dialed a number I had programmed and had never used.

I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. “Recovery hotline, this is James. How can I help you?”

I took a deep breath and didn’t say anything. I thought about hanging up.

The road stretched out ahead of me, and the choices I made now would define how I moved forward.

It terrified me.

“Hey, James, I’m an addict and I feel like using . . .”

chapter

twenty-seven

aubrey

i wasn’t expecting my day to end with a decision to go home.

It had started like any other typical day.

I had gotten up. Gotten dressed. Had a cup of coffee. Made small talk with Renee. I had met Brooks in the library, careful to avoid any reminders of our awkward conversation in my apartment. I had gone to class, eaten lunch, spoken to Maxx on the phone.

And then my mother happened.

My phone rang just after I settled into my evening of homework and required reading.

I answered it without looking at the number on the screen. I assumed it would be Maxx or Renee.

I was the queen of repeat mistakes.

“Aubrey, I’m so glad you picked up.” I paused, in shock to hear my mom’s voice on the other end. We hadn’t spoken since our last phone call weeks before, and by my calculations I shouldn’t hear from her again for at least another two or three months.

Her voice sounded strange. Husky and thick, as though she had been crying. I was instantly on edge.

“Is everything all right?” I asked, thinking something must have happened to my dad. That could be the only reason for her calling me again so soon.

“Yes, everything is fine,” she said, her voice muffled. Then there was silence. Was I supposed to fill in the gap?

I had forgotten how to have a normal conversation with my mother years ago, so I was completely at a loss.

“Is there a reason you’re calling?” I finally asked, going for blunt instead of beating around the bush.

I waited for my mother to chastise me. To tell me that I was being rude and should watch myself. She did neither.

What was going on?

“Your dad and I were going through Jayme’s room this week. Finally cleaning out her clothes and donating them to Goodwill. I . . . I almost couldn’t do it.”

I frowned. Why was she calling to tell me this? She sounded weak and tired and nothing like the aggressive, antagonistic woman she had become since my younger sister’s death.

I was equally surprised that she and my dad were disturbing the shrine they had built to Jayme. Her room had been left virtually untouched since she had last been in it, over three years before. The only time I had been home after starting college I had found my mother changing the sheets on Jayme’s bed as though she were still sleeping there.

“She told you everything! You had to know what was going on! How could you not tell me? How could you not do anything to help your baby sister? What sort of person are you?” my mother had screamed at me the night before I had left to go back to Longwood. It had been the last time I had slept under the roof of my childhood. The last time I had been in my parents’ company.

I had become so used to my resentful mother it was easy to forget the other sides to her personality that had all but been obliterated.

“I’m sure that was hard,” I ventured slowly, feeling as though I was walking into a trap.

My mother sniffed loudly on the other end, confirming that she was indeed crying.

“We found some things I thought you might like to have. Some pictures and keepsakes I know Jayme would want you to have.”

I swallowed thickly around the lump that had formed in my throat. “Oh, well, you can mail them—” I began, but my mom cut me off.

“Actually, I was wondering whether you’d come down for a visit. I asked you last time we spoke and you never really answered me. But your dad and I would really like to see you. It’s . . . it’s been too long,” she said in a rush.

The air was sucked out of my lungs. “You want me to come for a visit? Why?” I practically shouted into the phone.

My mother hissed in a breath, and I waited finally to be yelled at.

But instead she remained calm. “I’m your mother. Do I need a reason to see you?”

“Yes. Considering you haven’t bothered in the last three years.” I sounded angry. And I was. I thought I had made peace with my lack of parental relationship. But with my mother dangling the carrot of her company in front of me, a part of me I thought was dead resurfaced. The part that longed for her parents’ affection. The part that had once been loved and adored by her family.

“There’s a lot I think we need to talk about. We can come to you if that would be easier. Your dad and I could get a hotel room. Take you out to dinner—”

“No!” I said loudly. I knew that having them here at Longwood was the last thing I wanted. I couldn’t have them invading the space that had become my escape. From home. From Jayme’s memory. From them.

“Okay, I understand,” my mother said, sounding sad, which was perplexing on so many levels.

I had no defense against this person. This ghost of my childhood that I thought long gone.

I didn’t know what had precipitated this dramatic change, but I was wary and distrustful. I had hardened myself against my family because they had hurt me deeply already. But my heart strained to open up to her. It wanted to. It needed to love her again.

I had spent years avoiding going back to that place. I had worked hard to put it behind me, even if the memories of my sister and the family I had lost still clawed at my insides every day. I had been firm in the belief that I couldn’t go there. Ever again.

But hearing the soft regret in my mother’s voice had me doing something I thought was impossible to do.

It made me miss home.

“But please think about it. I think it would be important. For all of us,” my mother said quietly, the lack of resentment in her tone louder than her words.

“I will,” I promised.

I hung up the phone feeling conflicted.

“Ugh!” I yelled, throwing down my pencil in frustration. Jayme snickered from across the kitchen table, and I threw her a nasty look.

“What’s wrong, Aubrey?” my mom asked from the back door. She had just come in from getting an armload of firewood that Dad had cut up last weekend. It was the end of fall, and the first signs of winter were appearing. North Carolina was experiencing an unseasonable cold snap, catching everyone by surprise. The forecasters were even calling for a few flakes of snow before the week was out.

“I hate algebra! I just can’t get it!” I complained, picking up my pencil again.

I should have listened when people said high school was a lot harder than middle school. But I thought I would be fine. I mean, I was smart. I got straight A’s. What would be the problem?

Algebra with Mr. Foltz was the problem.

“You look really funny when you want to cry,” Jayme teased, though it wasn’t malicious. I stuck my tongue out at my little sister.

“You just wait, Jay. In two years you’ll be exactly where I am, and then I can make fun of you,” I threatened, though there was no real bite to my words. We both knew that when the time came, I’d be helping her with her homework anyway.

Mom opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of iced tea she had made earlier, pouring some into glasses and bringing them over to the table. She sat one down in front of me and handed me a chocolate chip cookie.

“Brain food,” she said, smiling and sitting down beside me.

I took the offered snack and ate it, thinking there was nothing better in the world than my mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” she asked, leaning over my textbook, a concentrated frown on her face.

I pointed to the gobbledygook on the page. “Mr. Foltz told us one way to do it and the book is saying to do another. Neither of them make any sense!” I moaned, burying my head in my crossed arms in a fit of teenage melodrama.

I could hear Jayme giggling again and Mom quietly shushing her. Then her hand was on my back, a calm, comforting touch. I lifted my head and looked at my mother. Even though I was a teenager and quickly outgrowing the idea that my parents were the coolest people on the planet, I still believed that my mother had the answer to everything. I held on to that belief with a strength of conviction I didn’t think I’d ever lose.

My friends had always been so jealous of the relationship I had with my mom. They thought she was the coolest. She’d take me shopping, talk to me about boys, help me apply makeup that looked great. I was lucky.

Mom put her finger underneath my chin and lifted my face. “Sometimes we just need to look at something another way. Things are never so simple that there’s only one answer.”

I smiled. She smiled. Jayme smiled from across the table.

My entire life up to that point was made up of moments like this.

And I felt completely and totally loved.

I waited for Maxx after his shift at the coffee shop. I had been sitting in the same booth for over an hour, pretending to look over my assigned reading when actually I was simply watching him work.

He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes. His smile was strained as he greeted customers. The bright blue of his eyes was dull and listless even though they still lit up when he looked at me.

I could see Maxx talking to the other girl on duty. She smiled a sickeningly sweet grin and flipped her hair. He picked up a plateful of chocolate fudge cookies and inclined his head toward me.

I quickly ducked behind my book but peeked out over the top. The girl’s expression soured, but she nodded.

“I see you,” Maxx said, dropping down into the booth across from me.

“Didn’t realize I was hiding,” I teased, though feeling embarrassed at having been caught staring like a psycho girlfriend. He slid the plate of cookies toward me, his exhausted face softening as he looked at me.

“What was it you said about chocolate?” he teased.

“That I’d do just about anything for it,” I responded, picking up a cookie and taking a bite.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said, his voice husky and rich.

I cleared my throat, feeling my face flush and my belly twist in that slightly painful way that meant I was completely turned on.

“So, I have a proposition for you,” I announced, putting the rest of the cookie back onto the plate.

Maxx reached across the table and took my hand, his thumb sliding back and forth over mine. “Well, that was the point of the chocolate,” he said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes but had to clear my throat again before continuing.

“I’m thinking about going home for the weekend. To see my parents,” I said quickly, needing to say it before I lost the nerve.

Maxx frowned and dropped my hand, sitting back in the booth. “Okay . . .”

“I haven’t been home in three years.” I glanced out the window and then back to Maxx. “I haven’t seen my parents in three years,” I went on.

“Wow. Okay. So why are you going now? Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Everything’s fine. My mom called and said she’d like me to come home. She has some things of Jayme’s she’d like me to have. I just think . . . that it’s time.”

Maxx nodded. “Well, if that’s what you need to do. Then absolutely you should go.”

“I’d like you to come with me,” I stated, not quite able to look at him. I hadn’t really thought about Maxx coming with me until that moment. But I realized that if I was going to do this, I wanted him with me.

Maxx blinked a few times, looking shocked. “You want me to come to North Carolina with you? To meet your parents?” he asked incredulously.

Shit.

This would be that “meet the parents” moment.

It was too much too soon.

He was going to balk and freak out and God knows what else.

The niggling doubts that always worried at the back of my mind when it came to Maxx roared to life.

He’s going to go get high. You’ve pushed him, and now he’ll need to turn to the pills. It’s all he knows. He will always disappoint you. How can you have a relationship when you don’t even trust him?

I became enraged at myself for letting that horrible voice in my head drown out everything else.

“It’s cool. You don’t have to. I just thought I’d ask. I was only thinking it might be nice to get away—”

“Of course I’ll come, Aubrey. If you need me, I’m there. Always,” Maxx said earnestly. He reached back across the table and took my hands again, and I relaxed marginally.

“I know it’s a big step, meeting the parents and all. Particularly my parents, because they’ve sort of sucked. And if this freaks you out or makes you want to—”

Maxx leaned across the table and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, gently tugging me toward him. He kissed me. A hard pressing of lips that effectively silenced my worries.

When he was finished, he rested his forehead against mine, our noses touching. “I’m ready for any and every step, Aubrey,” he whispered, and I shivered.

I sat back in the booth and gave Maxx a shaky but genuine smile.

“Okay, then. I guess we’re heading to North Carolina.”

My heart seized up the moment we entered the city limits. Marshall Creek, North Carolina, hadn’t changed a bit. There was something both comforting and exasperating about that.

I drove through the familiar streets, past the diner where Mom took me to celebrate winning the school election. Past the local library where Jayme volunteered during middle school. And right by the high school where I had graduated.

I didn’t look at any of it. I didn’t need to. The memories of this place were imprinted on my mind whether I wanted them there or not. And strangely, it still felt like home.

I had expected to feel nothing. A numbness. An emotional disconnect. But the warmth that spread outward from my heart to be back in this small country town was something indescribable. It felt good.

Maxx hadn’t been very talkative on the two-and-a-half-hour ride to my hometown. He had spent most of the time staring out the window and chewing on his bottom lip.

After agreeing to come with me to see my parents, he had seemed to retreat into himself. He was present but absent at the same time. I began to second-guess my decision to ask him to come with me in the first place. Because it seemed to weigh on him in a manner I didn’t understand. I just wished he would tell me why.

“I always pictured you in a place like this,” Maxx murmured, half under his breath.

I looked through the window at the nondescript brick houses and well-manicured lawns. The white picket fences and random joggers with their dogs on the sidewalks.

“Really?” I asked, turning off the main road and onto a side street lined with red maple trees. In the fall they turned a bright, almost violent red, and Jayme had always loved to walk by them.

“It’s sort of perfect,” Maxx said, finally looking at me. “The streets are clean, the houses are painted, the people are smiling. You deserve to live in a place like this.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I gave him a small smile in return, which quickly faded. I slowed down the car as I approached the end of a cul-de-sac and the house with light blue siding and tan shutters flanked by the familiar red maples. I could still see the frame of the tree house my dad had made for Jayme when she was six among the bare limbs.

I pulled my car into the driveway. I thought I was going to be sick. And then I started to panic.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my voice hoarse as my throat tightened.

I gripped the steering wheel as though I would break it in half. “I have to leave. I can’t go in there.” I heard the rising hysteria in my voice and knew I was three seconds from losing it. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe in and out of my nose, trying to slow my erratic breathing.

I was jolted out of my downward spiral by a gentle touch on the back of my neck. Fingers buried into the hair at the base of my skull, a firm pressure that had an instant calming effect.