I heard Wesley in the bedroom. “Babe? You in there?”
I struggled to get enough air to breathe and to call for him. “Wes. Wesley!” I tried to scream, but it came out like a hoarse whisper.
He knocked on the door. “Hannah? Did you call me?”
I started sobbing. “Wes…Wes, open the door.”
He opened the door and stuck his head in. When he saw me on the floor, he rushed in and immediately put his hands on my face. “Hannah? Talk to me.”
“I can’t—I can’t breathe,” I wheezed. “And my hands are numb. They curled into fists, and they’re numb. I can’t move them.”
“Okay.” Wes leaned down and grabbed my wrist, checking my pulse. He counted silently for a moment, his brow knitted in concentration. When he’d finished, he asked calmly, “What are you feeling?”
“I think I might be having a heart attack.” I struggled for a breath.
“I’m going to get you the help you need. Hold on. I’m right here—I’ve got you.” He stood up for one second, never letting go of me, and leaned out the door. “Lauren!”
I thought I heard movement from the hall, but I couldn’t be sure. I kept trying to catch my breath.
“Breathe, baby. I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“No—no!”
But he was already in the bedroom, on the phone. He came back immediately as he called 9-1-1. “I have a twenty-five-year-old female with signs of tachycardia. She’s having trouble breathing.” He gave them our address and put the phone down. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Stay with me, babe.” He sat down next to me on the floor, gripping my clawlike hand. “Let’s breathe together.”
“Wes? Wes!” Lauren came around the corner, and her eyes went wild when she saw me. “Hannah!”
“She’s okay. Her pulse is high, but she’s okay—the paramedics are on their way. I think she’s having a panic attack.”
I shut my eyes, sobbing and trying to breathe. I didn’t want them to see me like this. It was so fucking mortifying.
“What can I do?” Lauren sounded panicked.
“Go wait at the door for the ambulance—bring the paramedics in here and tell them she needs oxygen. They’ll have everything we need.”
I heard Lauren run for the door, and Wes leaned against me, stroking my hair. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re going to get you the help you need, and you’re going to be okay.”
“I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening.” I squinted my eyes open and looked at my hands, which were still curled like claws. “Why are my hands like that?”
“It happens. I’ve seen it happen to my buddies. Shh, now, they’re almost here.”
Wesley kept talking to me gently and breathing with me, and as the minutes passed, I started to feel myself able to take a full breath.
“That’s my girl. Good girl,” he said.
My shoulders shook with sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry you’re going through this—but you are going to be okay, and I’m not leaving your side.”
“O-okay. Okay.”
The paramedics came in then, and I cringed away, embarrassed that my breathing was returning to normal and I was not, in fact, on the verge of death. The first one through the door, a young Asian woman, immediately wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my bicep and put an oxygen mask over my face.
The influx of oxygen helped me catch my breath. I managed to breathe a sigh of relief.
The paramedic was everywhere at once. “What’s her name?” she asked Wes.
“Hannah.”