Petal [h.s.]

TWENTY-TWO - YOU WILL ACHE

It was a full five minutes before I realized I was having a mild panic attack.

I initially didn't notice because of the adrenaline rushing through my veins as Harry sped off down the suburban street, leaving my parent's house in the dust that flew up around the wheels of my car. But as soon as we were down the block, I felt it. A fist squeezing around my lungs, tight and hard, making it difficult for me to breathe.

I shut my eyes and tried to focus on slowing down my breaths, on soothing the feeling inside of my chest, but all I could do was think about what just happened. All I could think about was the angry look on my dad's face, the way the car jerked as he yanked harshly on the door. All I could think about was back when I was a child, cradling a toddler sized Dani to my body in the backseat of my foster father's car. It was the only place I could go to keep us both safe, the only place that had a lock. I watched him yank on the door handle, over and over, screaming at me to open it the same way my dad did just minutes ago. The flashbacks came hard and fast and I couldn't stay there.

I was terrified of my father at that moment. I told Harry to leave, my voice a whisper, and he didn't hesitate. He didn't argue. He threw my car into reverse and sped away, his muscles flexing as he gripped the steering wheel. I watched him drive and studied his face until I realized that I was in the middle of a panic attack and I couldn't breathe.

"Arabella?" His voice now cut through my focus and I shook my head at him, keeping my eyes shut.

I pressed my hand against my stomach to feel my breaths as they came. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. Feel the breaths. Focus on the movement. I began to think about my reasons.

The color of the sky. Warm sand between my toes. Sunshine on my skin. The way Harry asked me if I wanted to go home. Having a home to go to. How hard I fought for so many years. What a waste it would have been if I gave in now. My little sister and the freedom she has. The lack of weight on her shoulders because I carry it. How strong carrying that weight has made me.

It was three minutes of my shaky breathing and the low music on the radio before I opened my eyes again. I cleared my throat, turning to look at Harry and saw the concern on his face when he looked back at me.

"You alright? You went pale for a moment." He murmured, letting go of the steering wheel with one hand so he could reach over and touch my forehead.

My eyes shut again at the feeling of his gentle fingers against my warm skin. The movement was so easy, so effortless. It felt as intimate as looking into someone's eyes right before a kiss. I wanted to let him touch me, but I couldn't. I promised myself I wouldn't do this with him anymore.

I jerked back from his hand as my eyes shot open once more. A wounded look crossed his face, but it was fleeting. He flexed the fingers that just touched my skin before placing them back onto the steering wheel. He gripped it tightly.