Clover

chapter fourty-two: panic

PANIC was a feeling Nevaeh Reyes was all too familiar with. In fact, more often than not, she found herself drawing comfort from the debilitating emotion.

For her, panic was synonymous with existential dread; whenever she felt the first teasing grip of the illicit hand, she was made acutely aware of the fact that a miniscule lump of muscle was (in the grand scheme of things) the only thing keeping her alive. She began to feel it, more than any person should, her heart; it felt heavy; a ball of lead threatening to drop, tearing through all her other vital organs, leaving a large gaping hole in it's wake.

Panic made her aware of her mortality, and naturally, that only led to the hand squeezing tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until Nevaeh was trapped in a viscous, suffocating cycle. She felt as though her heart was weighing her down. There simply wasn't enough space inside of her for it anymore, and she was convinced that it would lunge out of her, in a desperate vy for salvation. The walls around it tightened until it was inevitable for it to burst. She was sure of it.

That was panic for Nevaeh Reyes.

Despite how much it ruins her in the moment, the feeling of panic is at least reassuring that something in her body is functioning normally.

At least she still had the ability to feel.

But in that moment, when she laid eyes on Cael for the first time in two years, she felt none of that. Gone was the crushing weight of panic, existential dread and hyperawareness. Gone was the shortness of breath, the heaviness of her heart and the incredibly graphic image painted across her mind's eye of her heart literally flying out of her chest. In it's place?

Nothing.

Nevaeh felt nothing.

That terrified her more than any amount of panic ever would. She felt helpless. Her body literally shut down - gave up. She likened her hope to a fly then - constantly swat at and attempted to put down - but never successfully. Until that moment, that one fateful moment where the infinitely slower human managed to catch the fly - her hope - unaware, and squash it. Exterminate it. The human here, being Cael.

It was then Nevaeh realised just how dangerous hope was. Elias was giving her that. Hope. Reminding her that there was more to life than panic attacks and reclusivity. That she had a life before, and outside of Cael. That she was a few flights away from achieving that life again. But seeing him again. Seeing those thundery eyes? All of that was gone.

That completely ruined Nevaeh. She didn't want to go back to the way it was. And the return of Cael, coupled with the absence of Elias completely fucked her up for a while. So, in a moment of weakness, she retreated back into herself. She let Cael win, and kill her hope. It took a while, and Elias, to bring her back to life.

Explaining this to a therapist was proving to be more difficult by the second, because this was the first time Nevaeh had ever described her panic in such a way, and used such weird, metaphorical language to describe her growth.

After her most recent stint in the hospital, Nevaeh had decided to take therapy seriously. She wanted to be happy, and calm, and frankly, not anxious all the time. She didn't want to lay down at night, heart racing and body trembling for no clear reason. She didn't want to spend her nights, laying there, fighting off the panic and trying to embrace sleep. She just wanted to live, freely, without restraint. Because that's exactly what she had been since England. Restrained.

"So, your hope is a fly that was killed by Cael - but it's come back to life now, because of Elias?"

Exhaling deeply, Nevaeh nodded, a small smile painting her face at the fact that she had finally found a therapist that understood her. Her name - Nevaeh had finally learned - was Dr. Kennedy, but she insisted Nevaeh called her Lia.