Freeing My Alpha: Book 2 of My Shy Alpha

Chapter 22

CONTENT WARNING: PTSD episode, flashbacks

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Noah holds me for a few hours at my parents' cottage, burrowing into my bed with me in the tightest cuddle ball we can manage.

But when he has to leave to do his nightly perimeter check before he returns to sleep for the night, I try my best not to show my fear as I say goodbye.

Giving him a weak smile, I squeeze his hand. "See you soon, love."

Noah pauses at the front door, his fingertips delicately brushing my hair behind my ears. "I'll be back in less than an hour, okay? Then we'll fall asleep together."

I nod, giving him the best smile I can manage.

After a kiss goodbye, Noah shifts at the forest's edge, disappearing into the darkness.

When I shut the door, I'm faced with a huge problem.

Not this fucking lock.

Twisted all the way open to the left, the front door's brass lock taunts me with my worst fears: Steven will come back someday, and it'll be all your fault.

Again.

A rage boils inside me like I've never felt, spouting to the surface in violent bubbles. It's so much worse now that I'm alone - no one's here to distract me long enough, or to create enough social pressure to shove my PTSD below the surface. I'm terrified of the agitation stirring in my body, begging me to release it.

What if I lose control and hurt myself this time by accident?

I've never lost control before, but I can recognize whose voice this is. OCD is teaming up with PTSD to trap me even deeper.

But naming it doesn't make a difference tonight. My distress feels too powerful to manage with acknowledgement, my first line of defense, which terrifies me even more. Worse than alone, I'm being attacked within my own body, unable to stop reliving my worst moments.

How could you let this happen to yourself, Aliya? How could you let Steven do that?

That brutal, doubtful thought stabs a hole in my soul. Was it actually my fault?

No, I've been over this. This was done to me. He was intentionally shocking, horrific, and out of my control.

I'm not sure that's any better. The truth is so ugly, burning acid through my veins with each staggering pump of my heart.

Rushing to my couch, I grip the nearest pillow to scream into. My voice ripples through the cotton, escaping from the seams until it fills the room despite my deathly grip muffling it.

But it just makes me angrier.

I still can't believe that man did this to me, and now his actions are affecting Noah. I hate feeling like I'm walking poison, spreading my pain to everyone in my life thanks to Steven. As vivid chunks of his break-in replays, I wish I could go back in time and bite him to shreds.

Guilt gnaws at my stomach for thinking of hurting someone.

See? You're twisted, Aliya. A fucking monster.

But even deeper, I'm more than simply angry at Steven, at myself, and at life. My hands shake, eyes darting back to that door. Waiting for him to come back to hurt me again, just like I've anticipated for years.

I'm still so fucking afraid of him.

"I hate it!" I scream, filling the silent cottage with my rage. I don't want to live like this for the rest of my life.