Dare You To Love Me

«17» the hope taken

It wasn’t until she heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching that she stirred a little, her tear-streaked face lifting slightly, when she perceived an earthy woody scent she associated with only one person.

Fulan’s alarmed gaze met hers as he came into view. In that moment, Yaseerah couldn’t decipher her own emotions—whether it was relief she felt, or shame, or exposure under his gentle scrutiny.

His eyes widened with concern, taking in the disheveled state of the person he hadn’t expected to find on the other side of the gate.

“Yaseerah? What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His questions flew over her head, as he knelt beside her. Her lips parted, but no words escaped. All she could think of in that moment was the tightness in her chest, and the inability to inhale air into her lungs.

Several seconds passed but the fact remained, something was blocking her airways.

“I can’t... I can’t...” she gestured at her throat, turning panicky eyes on him. “I can’t breathe.”

Her breaths were shallow and rapid, and her tear-streaked face reflected her sheer distress.

“I need you to calm down,” he urged in a soothing tone which did nothing to help her. “Focus on your breath.”

Yaseerah tried to do as he said but she couldn’t. And the more shallow her breaths were becoming, the more panic was setting in.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded. “You’re safe here, nothing will hurt you, I promise. Take it slow, in to 7 and then out to 11. In and out.”

Again, she struggled against the invisible force constricting her chest, even as Fulan encouraged her to synchronize her breathing with his.

“I need you to do something for me. Can you manage that?”

Yaseerah’s brows furrowed, but she managed to nod her head.

“I need you to tell me three things you can see.”

“You, the gate, the car?”

“That’s good,” he nodded encouragingly, smiling softly at her. “Close your eyes, focus on your breaths, inhale slowly, exhale and tell me three things you can smell.”

Using his calm presence as an anchor, Yaseerah did as he instructed.

“Oudh, musk, cinnamon?”

Fulan choked on a shocked gasp, and Yaseerah’s eyes snapped open on instinct, a red hue blossoming on her cheeks because she’d just listed his scents.

“You good, now?”

Yaseerah nodded, avoiding his gaze, as she felt the panic attack loosening its grip on her.

Fulan’s gaze softened a bit, his concern deepening as he took in the magnitude of her distress.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened right now,” he said softly. “But I’ll be here to listen, whenever you’re ready.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered distractedly, attempting to rise but gave up when she couldn’t muster enough energy to do so. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You’re always welcome here,” his face softened a bit, though his concern remained.

“I don’t...”

“Sometimes our instincts guide us to where we need to be, even if our conscious mind hasn’t caught up yet.”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she admitted softly, the confession ripping out of her forcefully, leaving her strangely bereft, because she knew she’d just crossed another invisible line she’d drawn between them.