And come it does. As I twist and turn, tangled in the covers, blood drips from the walls, pooling on the floor. Shadows detach themselves from the walls, mouths open, a low howl rising in the quiet. I try to get up, but I can’t, invisible hands holding me down, nailing me to the mattress, and all my old wounds start to bleed and bleed, drenching the sheets.
I sit upright, my mouth dry, a scream dying on my lips.
Fucking hell. My heart hammers inside my chest, with painful beats. I press my hand to my ribs, trying to keep it inside. I still see red, and I blink until the blood disappears from the walls and my sheets.
A fucking dream, entangled with memories. My visit to the basement liberated them, so they rose like ghosts, seeking revenge.
I stumble out of bed, my stomach roiling, and knock into the wall before I manage to find the bathroom. I bend over the toilet, but nothing comes out. I’m light-headed, and I slide down the wall as everything spins.
I lean my head back, desperately trying to catch my breath. How did Erin do it? Breathe in, hold it, count to five, exhale.
Can’t. My lungs feel constricted. My head drops forward. Pressure is building in my chest, pain radiating down my ribcage. My breathing rattles.
I need to hear her voice. Through the open bathroom door, I see my phone on the table. I could call her. She said to call her if I needed her—but I can’t move.
Dammit, Tyler. Get off your ass and call her.
Grabbing the sink, I make it to my feet and stagger like a drunk to the table. I scroll down my few contacts and press dial before my courage deserts me—and before I black out. Cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, I stumble to the bed and sink on the creaking mattress.
There’s a ringing in my head. Could be from the phone or from the blood rushing in my ears. I grip the cell like a lifeline even as I try again to count—to breathe in and hold the air. I fail and try again and again.
“Hello?” a tinny voice says in my ear, and I struggle to focus on it. “Tyler?”
Erin. I don’t have enough air to speak. My fingers clench the cell like claws and the plastic casing creaks.
“Tyler. Are you okay? What happened?”
Goddammit. I fight to unclench my fingers before I break the phone.
“You’ll be okay,” she says, her voice gentling. “Breathe in, slowly now. Everything will be fine.”
I close my eyes and picture her, her dark eyes, her soft lips. I let her voice soothe me, calm me down as I fight to suck in more air. My lungs stop seizing, and I can draw deeper breaths. Sweet oxygen fills my starved lungs, and my vision begins to clear.
“Tyler? Still with me?”
“Yeah.” My voice sounds like rusty nails.
“I’m coming over.”
“I’m okay.”
“Oh, shut up,” she mutters, and that makes me smile even as I still pant for breath. “Be there in ten, okay?”
“Okay,” I say and finally let the phone slip from my hand onto the bed.
Chapter Sixteen
Erin
I get dressed in seconds and jump into my car. Driving like a madwoman, I weave through the streets, trying to think of the fastest way to Tyler’s apartment.
Fear crushes my chest. The sound of his gasping breaths over the phone terrified me, although I googled the hell out of panic attacks and benzo withdrawal in the past few days. I know that he was damn lucky not to die when he cut the pills so suddenly, and I also know panic attacks won’t kill him.
But I can’t stand knowing he suffers and I’m so damn glad he called me now that he needs help.
I park outside his building and hop out, lock the car and run up the stairs. It can’t be more than ten minutes since we talked, but it feels like a year has
passed by the time I ring his bell.