Yes, the panic attacks had been crippling, but moving away and devising ways of being able to be in social situations without struggling, and even being able to drink water around people—something I hadn’t even been able to do for the first year after it—had helped.
For some reason, thinking about drinking water made me snort. I’d been so paranoid about it that I wouldn’t even buy bottled water, to begin with, after that night. I kept thinking: what if someone was following me and had injected the bottles with something, and once I drank it, I’d pass out, and they’d break into my apartment.
I’d bought a filter for the fridge and had stuck religiously to that, to the extent I took larger than expected purses to events and poured my own water discreetly into the glass during bathroom trips. I’d even looked at getting those test strips online that were supposed to tell you if there was something in your drink when you were out, but the reviews had called bullshit, so I’d decided just to bring my own water.
If those were the after-effects of having your drink spiked and surviving it without being hurt, raped, or murdered, imagine what the victims who weren’t as lucky as I’d been went through. That’s why I didn’t want to use any mental health resources that could have gone to them.
But being trapped in a small dark place—not unlike how I imagined my brain had been with the effects of the Rohypnol, cocaine, alcohol, and antihistamine medication clashing with each other in my system—was taking me back to how I’d felt back then.
Desperate, I moved to thinking about Marcus. Although I’d had the contraceptive shot done a while back, we’d stuck to condoms until last night.
Last night was the first time we’d ever truly felt each other, and I’d been so happy when I’d gone to sleep and woken up with him. I was happier than I think I’d ever been in my life, and I’d had so much to already be happy about. I felt for him like I don’t think I’d ever felt for anyone outside my family.
Random thought: I hope Boring Benjamin’s found his soul mate or at least finds her. He was such a nice guy, and even though my sister’s nickname for him was mean, everyone liked him… they just felt tired when he was around because of how he spoke and the stories he told. Damn it, that made him still boring. But maybe there was someone out there who could wake him up and make him more animated and adventurous. Everyone had their equal other, the one they’re fated to, right?
But did they? Or was it a case of you just meshed well together?
Was Marcus my soulmate? Did I even believe in them, or was I realistic like he was about instalove not being a thing?
The first time I’d met him, I hadn’t felt what I felt for him now, so I could confirm wholeheartedly full instalove didn’t exist. What I felt now was love in its truest form—overwhelming, breathtaking, comforting, and it made me feel secure. I felt safe even with Sadie’s love triangle theory with Marni—which I was still adamant didn’t exist.
I trusted him with everything, including sex without a condom between us, which was a massive deal for me. Letting someone else into my body like that, with no barrier, wasn’t just a natural progression of the relationship. It was so much more, which was why we’d continued using them for as long as we had. Even without us discussing it, I knew Marcus had felt the same way.
And the way his arms had been shaking, and he’d rested his forehead against mine once he was all the way inside me last night, like he was taking time to memorize it all, had proven how much it’d meant to him.
Words meant a lot or nothing at all—actions were what cemented those words.
Marcus’s actions had never led me to do anything other than trust him and fall head over heels in love with him, and I hoped I’d brought him the same peace he brought me.
I also hoped he was in his truck—the one with the damn jacked up wheels that made it almost impossible for any average sized person to get into the thing—looking for me.
Remy was a man of action and few words, so hopefully, he’d be on his computer or phone, looking at ways to find me. I didn’t doubt Sadie, Adia, and Santana would be coming up with plans to find me if they’d discovered I was missing yet. Those women were like Charlie’s Angels.
Come to think of it, comparing the last time I was like this to now, my circumstances were different. My parents had zero reasons not to believe I was safe when I was at my friend’s house last time, so they wouldn’t have started looking for me while I was out and running around with a psycho with a sword near me. This time, I had a routine that people knew, and I lived surrounded by those people so they’d notice my absence, especially if Adia or Nonna—