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I can't be here. I can't do this.
Breath, just breath.
She's alive. He didn't kill her. She'll be okay.
I repeat that over and over in my head until I remember how to breath again.
"Next time maybe think about stepping in?" Dom says to me icily.
I think I'm going to throw up.
Inhale. Exhale.
The weed is doing fuck all to help me, she's okay but this pressure on my chest isn't going away...
"Aren't you going to say something?!" Dom lashes out in furry
I need to get out of here. I think I'm having a panic attack.
I stand up to walk out of the room and everything seems to slow down even more, the room is tilting, my vision blurring. I just need to focus on that damn door and get out of here.
By sheer will I make it out of the conference room and take off sprinting, not stopping until I reach my bedroom and slam the door shut. I barely make it to my bathroom before I hurl my guts up.
"Caring for someone, loving someone, it makes you weak." My fathers words echo around my head and rattle me to my core.
