There are other voices. Male voices. My heart races quicker, "Take Ry and go to your rooms," I know that voice. Charlie doesn't sound like that. Charlie had a voice that was like sandpaper rubbing against a brick. This was smooth. Comforting. I know this voice.
"Aaron, sweetheart, I need you breathe. Just listen to me the best way you can and breathe, okay? Inhale, and count with me. Inhale 1,2,3,4 exhale, 5,6,7,8. Keep doing that okay?"
I only listen because somewhere in my jumbled mind I know that voice. I think I did it ten times. His words of encouragement ringing in the static. I finally get my breathing under control. My chest still heaves. My body coated in a slick sweat. I suck in a breath and then shakily try to hop out of the bed. I almost go tumbling down. I, myself, grab onto Mr. Phoenix's forearm before I make the drop.
His other arm comes around my waist to steady me. I feel my heart race. My body locks, "Whoa, slow down Aaron. What do you need?" I swallow hard. At least I try to. I make a gagging noise and not even a few seconds later Mr. Phoenix guides me out of the room and to the bathroom.
I don't even turn the light on. I immediately drop to my knees. My head hovers over the porcelain bowl. Over and over. I heave. I do it so many times at one point it's just water and stomach acid. I slump against the side of it. Body exhausted from retching. Mind exhausted from the flashback. Soul fed up with everything. I start crying again.
I hear the toilet flush. My body so tired it falls against the wall. My head leaning against sink. He sits on the closed toilet. He hands me a glass of water. My hands shake so hard I can't even bring it to my lips. Mr. Phoenix guides it for me. I felt so weak. Mentally. Physically. I think my soul finally left my pathetic body.
"Come on, let's clean you up back to bed," he says it so softly. I feel the sting of tears. My legs felt like jello. My arms like limp noodles. My vision fading in and out. A cracked sobbed escapes my lips.
"I c-c-can't," my lip quivers. Mr. Phoenix finally turns on the light. It was blinding. I felt like my skin would burn. He was wearing grey sweats and black T-shirt. His hair a little disheveled. Dirty green eyes look absolutely worried. He couldn't be worried about me. I hiccup. I can't stop crying.
Maybe everything was finally getting to me. Or maybe I was overreacting. I'm sniveling on the floor. Wedged between the sink and toilet like a pathetic idiot. Somehow I manage to pull myself up. Mr. Phoenix standing close in case I fall. I plop myself on the toilet. Inhaling a shaky breath.
He presses the back of his hand against my forehead. I don't have time react because it's already gone. He purses his lips. Eyes assessing me, "Your warm. Almost burning up, pale, and clammy. When's the last time you ate?" I shrug, "Do you take any medication?" I shake my head no. My eyes droop. I feel myself falling forward.
"Jesus Christ!" Mr. Phoenix catches my drowsy figure before I face plant on the floor, "Listen, just shake or nod your head yes or no, okay?" I nod, "Are you comfortable with me picking you up?" I hesitate for a moment. I nod. I feel a arm go around my back. He instructs me to wrap my arms around his neck. God, I was so weak. I could barely lift them. His other arm goes under my knees.
I'm picked up bridal style. He picks me up like I weigh nothing. We leave the bathroom. The dim light feels better. I don't know where we're going but I know we dont go back towards Rylie's room. It's only a few minutes later that I'm being laid on a soft surface. Mr. Phoenix flips one of the lights. I'm on the couch. He goes into the kitchen.
I lay there. Curled in fetal position. Still, wearing my jeans and T-shirt. The clothes feel all too constricting. Mr. Phoenix strolls in. A bowl in one hand. A cup in the other. He sits on the the rectangular table where the boys rest their game controllers, "You need to eat something."
I shake my head, "N-not h-h-hungry."
"Aaron," there was sternness in his tone, "Eat the soup, please," I let out a breath. He hands me the bowl. I take it with shaky hands. I finish the bowl within ten minutes. He hands the cup that was filled with ginger ale. It actually felt good to have something on my stomach. I didn't feel as tired. I didn't feel as weak.
We sit in silence. His eyes flicker over every inch of my face. I coil into myself. My head laying on the armrest. I wrap my around my stomach. Holding myself. No one else would, "What happened?" His deep voice slices through the silent air and I shrug with one arm.
"Nothing."
"Aaron."
"I'm f-fine, Mr. Phoenix."
His brows furrow. He clasps his hands under his chin. Elbows on his knees, "That's the second panic attack you've had. You were screaming, Aaron. Crying. Vomiting."
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, "People have bad dreams. I'm one of those people," I mutter. There was an edge to my voice. It doesn't go unnoticed.
He purses his lips, "There's a difference between nightmares and flashbacks," he gives me a pointed look. I clench my jaw.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Mr. Phoenix sighs. It's deep. He runs a hand through his cropped hair. The same hand scratches the stubble on his jaw. It's strange how the dim light somehow illuminated his skin and facial features. He looked tired. Like, he didn't know what to do. What to really say.
"I do know. I've seen it before. You can talk to me or I can--,"
"You can't help me," I cut him off through a almost silent whisper. He couldn't do anything. No one could then and no one can now. I feel misguided anger coursing through me. Like a bubble of rage. Annoyance. That everlasting bitterness. Words spill from my mouth before I can register them.
"You just can't. You can't fix me. And you're right it was a flashback but I like to say and tell others it was a nightmare because thats the only way I know how to cope. That makes it not real. Why would I want to remember being raped as something real? I wasn't even a teen and he decided he could take what he wanted from me. And that's just the first of too many. They just did whatever they wanted and why not? I'm nothing. I'm a body and a check for the taking.
"And you probably won't believe me. Why would you? Regina told you I was a liar. I don't tell police. I don't tell anyone because people don't care. Unless I have money and a family backing me up no one gives a shit. That's my reality, Mr. Phoenix. So, don't ask me if I'm alright. Don't waste your money on a shrink. Stop caring. It'll make your life and this arrangement a hell of a lot easier."
There was a sardonic smile on my face. Mr. Phoenix looked absolutely grim. The silence was like an atomic bomb. I sink myself further into the couch. I shouldn't have said that. I hadn't told anyone that. Not a soul. Yet, I just blurted to a man I've only known for a week. I feel my hands tremble. I shouldn't have said it. It's not something to be talked about. I'm supposed to keep it a secret. Keep it to myself.
"Aaron, I--God--," Mr. Phoenix rubs the space between his eyebrows and nose. He looks up the ceiling and mumbles something I can't understand. It was practically inaudible.
"We have to talk about this."
"We don't have to talk about a damn thing."
"We do. You can't disclose this kind of information to me and think I'm going to let it slide. If you won't talk to me at least talk to a professional."
"I'm going to bed."
"Aaron,"
A sound rips from the back of my throat. I close my eyes and count to ten, "Can we talk later and possibly settle something when its not four in the morning?"
Mr. Phoenix sighs. But still he nods, "You should change out of those clothes," he comments lowly. I don't feel like it though. I don't even feel like going back upstairs. I curl myself into the spot on the couch and Mr. Phoenix furrows his brows.
"You're going to sleep down here?"
"If you don't mind."
He tells me it's alright and goes to retrieve a blanket. He drapes it over my small figure telling me to have a goodnight and places a cup of water on the table in front of me. Soon enough he turns off the light and then I'm engulfed by darkness. The only thing that brings me solace.
