Wallflower Ink

Chapter 23

· Jace ·

I watch Merri carefully as she lies in her bed. What in the hell happened to her since she left the shop, I wonder? She'd seemed fine then. But when I'd pulled up behind her car and saw her slumped over the wheel, I'd known immediately that she wasn't fine anymore.

I'd tapped on her window and when I'd received no response my heart had kicked into overdrive. I hadn't thought about what I was doing until it was already done and I'd had her cradled in my arms. That had been ten minutes ago.

I sit on the floor beside her mattress, waiting for her to wake up, knowing that just because she'd fainted from hyperventilation that didn't mean the attack was over. She could wake at any moment just as panicked as she'd been initially, and I won't let her lay back here without me and have to deal with that by herself. The last thing she needs is to be alone.

When she begins to stir, I shift to my knees then gently caress her arm.

"Merri," I say softly, and her eyes flutter open. It's still there, the monster that had sent her scurrying into the farthest recesses of her mind to hide. I wrap her hand in both of mine and squeeze it gently.

"It's okay, Merri. You're safe. Nothing bad can happen to you here. Just breathe, okay?"

She stares at me wide eyed a moment then struggles until she's sitting up. Her breathing is too fast and I can feel her trembling through the hand I hold.

"I'm fine, Jace," she says, though her broken words tell a different story. "You can go. Don't worry over me."

I shake my head and move to sit beside her, still holding her hand. "No, Merri, I'm not leaving. I'm going to help you through this. Now, breathe for me, okay?"

She drops her head and takes a shallow breath, and I squeeze her hand gently.

"Deep breaths, Merri," I coach her. I take a deep breath myself then let it out slowly, and she follows my lead. I finally pull one hand from hers only to move it behind her to stroke her back gently.

"You're okay. You're safe. This place is safe. I'm not leaving and nothing can hurt you here."

I keep my voice low, my words rhythmic, and after a long while of just reassuring her while she focuses on breathing her tremors finally begin to slowly subside. When she leans against me, exhausted, I can do nothing else but wrap both my arms around her. I rock her gently, smoothing her hair with one hand while the other continues to stroke her back tenderly beneath it.

"You're okay. You're safe. This place is safe. I'm not leaving and nothing can hurt you here." I repeat the words more softly than before and when her body hitches in my arms I know the worst is nearly over.

Her soft sobs tear at me, but I know they are necessary. Crying is an integral part of the process; tears pave the way to healing. We sit there a long time, neither saying another word, and as I hold her against me, I find I don't want to let her go. All I want is to hold her like this--to chase away her fears, to protect her until every ghost that haunts her gives up its claim.

All too soon the moment is over, and when she pulls away from me, I let her.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice still hoarse with emotion.