Octavius

iii

FINLEY

Silky, persuasive voice pleaded, telling me over and over again that I needed to calm down, gently stroking my back, rubbing miniature circles like the way one would do to comfort a child who had nightmares in the middle of the night. As if the gesture was almost unnatural to him, I felt him lift a hand - hesitantly and then brushed back a strand of dark curl that had fallen across my freckled dotted face.

His elegant callused fingers scrapped against my cheekbone, then caressed the shell of my ear.

"Breathe," Raspy voice with a deep timbre cooed, effortlessly smooth like butter. I struggled to make sentences, spluttering out useless strings of words as the sinking feeling of panic swept over me, a temporary paralyzing fear. "Sh, breathe."

I wanted to. I wished. I didn't like the idea of a body against mine when I felt like dying in an endless pit of emptiness but this felt different.

My breath quickened in tandem with my racing heartbeat and I used every possible muscle - useless piece of strength inside my body to stifle a whimper.

I wanted to say something, I wanted to speak, respond in disagreement but the pure terror I felt suffocated by the very breath - intake of air that flowed out of my mouth. The room started to spin, my vision blurring into distorted colors and circles; fear now became a tangible living force that crept, sneaking onto me like some hungry beast immobilizing me and holding my brain captive.

My hands gripped a fistful of his perfectly ironed shirt, tightening my hold on him as I forced myself to breathe deeply, steadily in spite of my state of panic.

'You're okay. Hey, look at me. Just look at me, me only. You're okay, Champ.' His gentle, resonant voice would say.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. You're okay, Fin," I repeated the mantra that had been drilled inside my brain within the last year.

Slowly, I could feel every muscle in my body relaxing, my heartbeat returning back to its natural circadian rhythm. I could still feel the fear in my chest, sitting there like an angry ball propelling me towards an anxious exit I didn't want or need, waiting to take over but perhaps it only wanted to protect me from danger before it ever occurred.

Eyes slowly fluttered open, my hands flew to my mouth as I tried to stare at the lifeless body that remained on the cold ground but I couldn't see anything except the trail of crimson blood that had started to accumulate. Or rather, he wouldn't let me look.

He kept my head muffled against his pristine shirt, quickly leading me out of the stall. Unbeknownst to me, the Nightclub was empty, barely a single sound emitted in the room except for the mortifying slow clicks of his expensive-looking shoes as the man tugged me towards an deserted table and sat me down.

I had just witnessed murder. I could be considered an accessory. Why did he kill that man? Did they know each other?

I swung my leg from the chair, letting my thoughts run wild in my mind. It had been a while since my last episode. I didn't expect to breakdown in front of the poor stranger but I was beyond blessed that he didn't ask any further question. If anything, he sounded calm and patient like he knew exactly what to do.

After a few silent moments, I finally found my voice. "I... did.. did you kill him?" I spoke, shell of a whisper. "Do you.. are you going to kill me now?"

He handed me a bottle of water, our fingers brushing past each other in a delicate manner, leaving a hot trail of tingles in its wake.

I'm going to be dead due to heart palpitations. Helpp.