The next five weeks flew by, and before I knew it, we were trudging through the muddy depths of exam weeks.
Time was too scarce for sledding or picnics, and we were forced to watch the beauty of winter from indoors, studying for our exams. The stress of it all was not helping with my nightmares, and I often found myself lying awake at night, unable to close my eyes and struggling to force out the feeling of asphalt against my cheek as I stared at the wreck of cars before me, thick red oozing from my body. I thought I lost my leg after catching sight of the volume of blood spilling onto the floor beneath me.
The aching reminder had reappeared too, as I'd picked up my favourite pastime of running, which only worsened my condition, leaving me with discomfort every time I took a step.
Josh and I hadn't been speaking as much as we used to due to our busy schedules, and I began to realise that we only spoke on our drives to and from school.
I hadn't seen Mum for all five weeks. We never spoke after our fight, and the only way I knew she still came home after work was the evidence of a growing wine stash in one of the kitchen cupboards. Dad and I however, were closer than ever, and prior to my busy study schedule, we spent a lot of time together baking, listening to music, and he occasionally joined me on a run.
Dad was also in a much better headspace, as he was shortly hired by a record company for work. He'd taken up golfing in his free time too, and I knew he'd made some friends doing it.
In essence, I was in a kind of middle space, between happy and miserable. Never quite fulfilled due to the raging thoughts that rampaged through my mind, yet comfortable with the idea that everyone around me was doing well.
It was an oddly warm day that we'd decided to go to the library to study. Josh, Jake, Sam and Danny were all keen on the exploring Saginaw for a day, with the guilt free justification that we were studying too.
Dad and Mum were going on a date night too, meaning I could stay out late and not face the wrath of a worried parent.
It was safe to say I was feeling exited.
I slipped on some black jeans, paired with a light grey half zip Ralph Lauren sweater, with a tote bag hanging from my shoulder. Bubbles of excitement boiled in my stomach, as I hadn't spent proper time with any of the boys in a while, and I couldn't wait to laugh with them all.
After checking my bag had everything I needed one last time, I bounded down the stairs, bidding Dad a cheery goodbye and slipping on my shoes, before making my way across the path to their house.
I had braided my hair into two parts today, and I loved the way they looked draped over my shoulders, with small bows tied to the hair ties at the bottom, and stray hairs falling over my face.
The Kiszka house was chaos when I walked through the open door. Karen was screaming at one of the boys, and in the mess of movement I couldn't tell who. Sam and Jake were arguing over a shirt they both wanted to wear, and I assumed Josh was inside the bathroom that Ronnie was pounding a fist on angrily.
I stood awkwardly by the door, not wanting to intrude as I watched the madness unfold.
"Out of the kitchen right now or I'm burning that God-damned shirt so that neither of you can wear it!" Karens voice boomed through the house, and Sam and Jake came sulking towards my line of sight, still bickering under their breaths.
"And I'm older than you," Jake remarked, but Sam had noticed I was standing there and wandered over to me with a goofy smile on his face.
He threw an arm around my shoulder, "Layla, don't you think this shirt would look much better on me than Jake? I mean, the blue was just made for my beautiful, fair complexion," Sam lifted the denim blue shirt up between us, waving it around with exaggeration.
Jake threw a shooing hand up to Sam, "For fucks sake, just take it Sam, I don't even care," he huffed, before walking up to me and ruffling the hair on my head, sticking his tongue out and blowing a wet raspberry.
I glared at him and flattened my hair back down, "Gross."
He smirked as he sauntered off to his room.
"Josh, I swear to god if you spend one more minute-" Ronnies voice boomed down the hallway, as the click of the door sounded, and Josh walked out, smirking with a cocky hop in his step as he shimmied his shoulders in Ronnies face. After spotting me, his smile widened to his eyes and he make quick pace to reach me.
Danny rounded the corner, offering me a sweet smile which was shortly followed by a yawn, "I don't know how much study I'll be able to get done. I'm exhausted," he said, and I noticed the sleepy droop of his features.
"That's because you guys went to bed like, an hour ago," Josh commented, and I inferred that Danny must have slept over the night before.
Sam clapped and punched his fits outwards as he slipped on the blue shirt, leaving majority of the buttons undone, "Not me! I feel fresh as a daisy."
"You both better go to bed early tonight, I swear to god I can't deal with you keeping me up for two nights in a row," Josh complained sending them both a pointed look.
It took another half hour before all the boys were coordinated and ready, and finally, we piled down the highway towards Saginaw. I sat in the backseat with Sam and Danny, and spent the ride watching the world pass by through the window, trying to distract myself from the familiar feeling of sitting in the backseat of a car, as the memory of my nightmare last night crept into my mind.
I occasionally caught Josh's eyes in the rear view mirror, but would quickly look away shyly.
Once we'd arrived, the group clambered into the library building, which had an old fashioned style to it. Antique wooden furniture littered the spaces, and rows of shelves were pressed against the walls.
I inhaled the comforting smell of books, and followed after the boys as they claimed a table to study on. I took a seat between Josh and Danny, before taking my laptop, notebooks and textbooks out of my bag to begin studying.
I was positive I got the most work done out of the group, as none of the boys could go longer than fifteen minutes without getting distracted by one another and becoming lost in conversation.
I was particularly deep in researching the metabolic rate of aerobic-based athletes, when someone tugged lightly on my plait. I looked up and realised that everyone had left the table. Books, pens and laptops were scattered over the table in a mess of knowledge, but every seat was empty.
I tossed my head around aimlessly, hoping to spot them all by the bookshelves, but nobody was there, save for an older man who was flipping through a worn, brown book in a leather seat nearby.
Deciding I was too busy with schoolwork to join in their childish games, I turned back to my work and typed notes onto my laptop, highlighting a few things here and there from my papers on the desk.
Another soft pull on my braid had me huffing in frustration, pausing the quick movements of my hands to turn around. Josh's retreating body, which I assumed was attempting to be swift and sneaky made me huff out a laugh, along with the sight of the boys peeking out from behind the bookshelves, clearly over studying and enjoying their time annoying me instead.
I sent a glare their way, and went back to my work, hoping that this time they knew I was serious.
About five minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I whipped around angrily.
"I swear to God, Josh-" I whisper-yelled. Yet the face I was met with when I looked up wasn't Josh. And it wasn't any of his brothers either. Instead, the girl I had met on my first day of school stood beside me, a look of shock and regret on her face.
"Oh I'm so sorry!" I rushed out, still trying my best to keep my voice at a minimum in the void silence of the room. "I thought you were someone else, it's great to see you again...Aanya, was it?" I asked, sending her a look of apology.
She smiled warmly, "That's okay, and yes that's me, Layla, right?" She asked and I nodded. "Well I was just coming to ask if you could help explain something for me for the art exam... but if you're busy I totally get that, I don't want to ruin your flow or anything."
"No, no, no, you're totally fine," I said, pulling Josh's chair out from next to me and gesturing for her to sit down. I pulled out my art books and got the documents up on my laptop, "What did you need help with?"
We spent the next ten minutes discussing the art exam, and another ten minutes sketching out ideas as I tried my best to explain to her the concept of constructing form. As we spoke, I realised how nice it was to talk to another girl in our year, seeing as I hadn't made any friends yet, other than the Kiszka's. Her girly comments made me feel giddy and exited, and I realised very quickly how nice of a girl she was.
Both of us zoned out once we had began sketching, becoming intensely involved with the pen on paper, a sense of meditative relaxation and peace washing over me in the silence of the room and my mind. That was, until a pair of hands landed on my shoulders making me jerk upwards and streak a line of lead across the white of my paper. Aanya's head popped up in surprise too.
"When were you gonna introduce us to your friend?" Josh's voice drifted next to my ear.
I turned around and smiled at him, "Oh hey, this is Aanya. Aanya, this is Josh."
Aanya said a quick 'hello' and Josh smiled kindly at her, before all the other boys made their way over, disrupting our silent peace completely. Everyone introduced themselves in a quick flurry of names, that I was sure Aanya would not remember.
"Wow this is great, did you draw it?" Danny asked, picking up Aanya's paper.
"Oh yeah," she quickly snatched it from his hand and placed it facedown on the desk, "It doesn't look to great cause it's not finished yet," she blushed.
His eyebrows furrowed, "No way, that was amazing, you're very talented," he replied softly and Aanya blushed. I glanced at Josh with my eyebrows raised and he looked down at me, still leant on my chair with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Righty then are we gonna get the hell outta here or what?" Sam spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together.
"Yeah, it's so sad in here I'm getting depressed," Jake commented, running a lazy hand over his face.
I laughed a little but bit my lip, "I just wanted to write a few more notes for my English essay, I promise I wont be long," I said, turning back to my desk and opening up my laptop again. The others moved off huffing, but I could feel Josh's presence behind me still.
He placed his warm hands on my shoulders and began to massage, kneading out the tightness of my muscles, and nearly making me drop my head forward in pleasure.
He leaned down close to my ear, "Don't you think you've worked hard enough for one day?"
I somehow managed to mumble a uh-uh as I shook my head side to side, struggling to move my fingers across the keyboard.
"C'mon. You overwork yourself too much, lets go buy some cool shit," he gave my shoulders one more releiving squeeze before shaking me to regain my consciousness.
I shook my head to refocus, and sucked in a deep breath, "Okay fine, lets go." The boys all rushed to pack up their things, and I stretched over the back of my chair, hitting a particularly blissful spot on my back.
"Wanna come with us?" I asked Aanya, who had resumed her drawing, "We're gonna go around to some thrift shops I think, just explore the city a bit."
She contemplated it for a moment, her eyes flicking over to the group of guys, catching on Danny, who as if on queue looked up to her stare, before she quickly looked back at me with a blush.
"I don't know..." She said shyly.
I smiled, "I'd love for you to come, please? It would be nice to have another girl around for once." We both laughed and she agreed, packing up with the rest of us and following as we all piled out of the building.
"Sun!" Josh yelled once we had stepped onto the street, his arms reaching up into the air, and head tilted back as if he was having a spiritual cleansing. I laughed, and made my way next to him for the short walk to the first shop we encountered.
It was a quant, small business, with an eerie silence, and the air conditioning on far too cold. They sold trinkets like hair clips, and belt buckles and scarves, but the boys didn't last long in the noise quashing environment, and we were soon back on the street.
We stopped by a small sandwich vendor for lunch, standing in almost complete silence in the street as we all stuffed our faces with replenishments before setting off again.
The next shop we visited seemed much more promising. It was a small hole in the wall, with an archway entrance. I was immediately met with dim lighting, scarves and other sheets hung and strewn around the ceilings and walls, wrapping around the warm, buzzing lightbulb. The unmistakable voice of Jim Morrison was playing softly through a speaker somewhere, and I could hear some metal chimes tinkle from the wind in the doorway.
The man at the counter lifted his head at our presence, and I admired his curly head of hear and mustache. I wondered if Josh would ever grow a mustache like that.
"Hey guys, can I help you with anything today?" He asked.
"We're just gonna have a browse if that's aright," Jake responded, and the worker nodded, smiling kindly before retuning to whatever task he was working on.
The shop was small, yet we all naturally drifted apart to look at seperate sections, and I soon found myself lost in a rack of clothes, with a pile of jackets, tops and jeans thrown over my forearm.
"What do you think about this one?" Josh asked, and I turned to my left to see him smiling brightly, with a thick red beanie mounded on his head with a few of his little curls peeking out the edges.
I scrunched my nose up, unable to contain a smile, "So cute, Joshy," I reached over and grabbed a chunk of his smily cheek like a grandma. He shook me off playfully, laughing as he slipped the beanie off his head and fitted it onto my own. I posed in front of him, putting on my sharpest model face ironically.
He took a step back with his hands propped on his hips as if to admire his work, "Wow. There is no way this beanie isn't going home with you."
I smiled, "Does it look good?" I asked, wandering over to the small mirror situated in the corner of the shop.
"You look beautiful in it," he said quietly, and I watched in the mirror as he peeked up from behind me, rubbing down the sides of my arms. I smiled into the reflection, unable to take my eyes off Josh.
"Layla! Do you think this dress would fit me?" I heard Aanya call from the other side of the room. I awkwardly smiled at Josh, slipping the beanie off and placing it back into his hands before making my way over.
After a rough hour in the same shop, we left with a bag of clothes each, smiling like children at our buys, as we made our way down the crowded street.
"I can't believe those boots were in my size. I saved a ton," Aanya remarked, in reference to a pair of white cowboy boots that she was going to spend a hefty amount of money on online.
"I know, you're so lucky you hadn't bought the expensive pair online already," I answered, squinting as we walked towards the bright sun.
"Yeah... I can't wait to see you wear that white dress, you looked like Stevie Nicks reincarnated," she joked.
"Which dress?" Josh asked, shamelessly eavesdropping on our conversation.
"I'll show you later," I said, only hearing how flirtatious the statement sounded after the words had escaped my lips. I blushed, looking away to the busy road beside us. To my dismay, I caught sight of a car which recklessly merged into another cars lane without indication, almost causing an accident.
It was insignificant and unnoticeable if you weren't paying attention, so nobody paid it any mind but me. A pit of anxiety began to swirl in my stomach and something inside me tensed. It took everything in me to force the negative thoughts from my mind, trying my hardest to ignore the ache in my thigh.
"Alrighty, next stop!" Sam yelled as he swiftly turned into another shop perched on the corner of the street. Stepping in, I sighed at the sight of vinyl shelves, which reached down into the long, hearty depth of the store. A few others mingled already in the isles, as we excitedly made our way through them.
I found it interesting to watch which genre called to everyone, as Danny was drawn to the folk section, Sam to the jazz, Jake to the rock, Aanya to the alternative.
Josh remained glued to my side, "So, where do you wanna look at first?" He asked.
"Oh, you don't have to follow me," I urged, feeling guilty that I may be keeping him from his own interests.
He smiled, "I want to." He placed a hand on the small of my back and gestured a hand forward, "Lead the way."
Josh and I exhausted the blues genre within minutes, each with a couple of sleeves tucked under our armpits as we made our way to the next section.
"No way, I've been looking for this everywhere," Josh exclaimed, pulling out a yellow and black vinyl from the shelves.
I wandered over to hm, looking at it curiously, "What is it?" I asked.
"It's this band called Amanaz, this is the only album they ever did called Africa. Some great stuff on here," he said excitedly, slipping it under his arm. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, nodding to the vinyl in my hand.
I held a finger out towards him, indicating he had to wait a moment, as my face contorted grotesquely and I shot out a muffled sneeze into the corner of my arm.
I sniffed and apologised before I lifted it up in front of us, "It's a Lynard Skynard album I've not heard of before. I'm trying to decide if I should risk the buy or not," I pondered. Josh took the vinyl from my hand, flipping to the back and reading contents.
He rose his eyebrows and nodded his head, "Theres a few songs I recognise on here, I say buy it."
I winced, "But I've already got three I wanna buy, and I don't wanna go over my budget. I'll just have to chose one to get rid of," I said bashfully, a bit embarrassed of my very low bank balance.
Josh hummed, "Let me know which ones you end up going for." He then resumed his casual browsing of the store.
In the next ten minutes, I had sneezed about twelve times, and was starting to get very annoyed.
"Are you alright? You're not sick, are you?" Josh asked after I sneezed again as we made our way into an isle that Jake was in, filtering through a rack of vinyl.
"Yeah, no I feel totally fine, it's just my nose, I don't now what's up with it," I said, squeezing my nose with my fingers to try and ease some of the itchiness.
"Hey," Jake said once we were next to him. I returned to looking through the albums, when Jake's obnoxiously loud sneeze gave me a fright.
"My God, do you really need to sneeze that loud?" I asked, looking around to see if anyone heard.
"Sorry," he said bashfully, "The dust in here is really pissing me off."
Josh patted us both on our shoulders, "Hmm Layla, allergic to dust then?"
I furrowed my eyebrows at his comment, "What? No I'm not."
"Jakey is though, and you've both been sneezing like lunatics since we got in here," he commented. They both looked at me with a knowing stare and I sniffled.
"That sucks I thought I wasn't allergic to anyth-" I interrupted myself with another sneeze.
"Okay, lets get out of here," Josh stated, dragging us both along with him to the payment counter. I had ended up putting my Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl back, and opted for my original pick of three, paying the polite cashier, before letting Jake do the same. Josh had gone to collect Sam, Danny and Aanya, and returned back moments later with them all, the boys with a pile of at least ten records each.
In fact, the volume of all of their purchases made me begin to wonder how much they must be getting paid at their small gigs.
Once we'd left the store, we all decided that we had had enough for the day and were ready to go home, however, the boys needed to stop by the grocery shops to buy some ingredients for dinner.
I bid goodbye to Aanya, promising to find her on Monday for art class that we apparently had together unknowingly. She smiled shyly at the rest of the boys before leaving, and I didn't miss the pink tinge on Danny's smiley cheeks when she told them she'd see them on Monday too.
We decided to drive the distance to the grocery shops, not wanting to have to carry the bags across Saginaw to where we had parked, and despite the familiarity of having Josh drive me around, I felt a surge of anxiety at the thought of being in the car.
Josh insisted that I sat in the front seat this time, and as I clipped on my seatbelt, I found myself needing to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. My nails picked at one another while everyone got in and buckled up for the ride, and as we pulled out of the parking lot, I had to force myself to look at my hands in fear of seeing a moving vehicle outside and setting off a panic attack.
"You alright over there?" Josh asked, and I glanced up at him slightly, unable to form a coherent string of words, as I merely nodded my head and sent him a tight lipped smile. My jaw was tight and my leg bounced in the seat.
I felt terrible, knowing it was close to impossible for Josh to not see something was wrong, which was completely unfair to him. He had done nothing to make me afraid in the car with him, yet my nerves were firing mercilessly, my mind going haywire.
I felt the ghost of an ache in my thigh, teasing me, like my body was testing its own mental limits. My fingers tightly kneaded into the muscles, desperately trying to reach the bone where the ache stemmed from.
Regrettably, my eyes wandered to the windscreen, where the car piled down a busy road, other vehicles passing our left and I was unable to look away, fixated on the traffic in fear of collision.
The music in the car swelled, and the volume of speech in the car rose, and my heart thrummed in my ears. I missed the days that I could sit in a car without worries, feeling safe enough to relax and enjoy myself.
That part of me had been ruined.
"You coming?" Josh's words broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to find we were already parked in the grocery parking lot. I could see the rest of the group walking into the store.
I must have dissociated for the rest of the ride.
"Yep," I choked out, quickly jumping out of the car and speeding towards the store. I could feel Josh following silently behind me, concern radiating from his body.
I ignored him, keeping my head down and following after the group of boys in the store.
My mind ran through the lists of anxiety and PTSD coping mechanisms I was given by my post trauma therapist in Australia, yet it seemed all I could focus on was the sensation of being trapped in a flipped car, blood rushing to and out of my head.
"Reckon Mums gonna check the receipt?" Sam asked the group, "We could sneak some snacks in here, I doubt she'd realise," a sly smile playing at his lips. Jake smacked the back of his head.
At some point during the shopping trip, Danny stood beside me, where I had a safety gap between me and the group, feeling overwhelming bouts of anxiety for the car ride home.
He crooked his body down slightly to reach his head closer to my height, "You doin' alright?" He whispered.
I swallowed and nodded, my body conflicting between not wanting to worry anyone, but having no energy to fake emotion.
He spoke again, caution lacing his words, "Sammy gets... really bad anxiety sometimes," he started, and I turned my head to him slightly, indicating I was listening. "Like, really bad. "
He paused. "I don't know if that's what's going on here, but, if you want to talk to someone, or need help, he's definitely the one to go to."
My head swam. Sam has anxiety? He was one of the most relaxed and carefree people I'd ever met.
"Of course we're all here to help, or talk, or whatever you need... but, just keep that in mind," he slipped back to the group silently, and I took a deep breath.
The boys didn't waste much more time shopping, and we were soon seated back inside the car, which now felt stuffy and uncomfortable. Everyone began chatting and Jake stuck his head to the front and leant his forearms on the back of Josh and my seats so that he and Josh could chat.
My eyes were locked on the road ahead of us, and I found myself frequently pressing my foot into the empty space at my feet, when I felt like Josh wasn't breaking quickly enough.
I felt incredibly bad doubting his driving skills, although the thrum of my heart and whizzing in my mind had me absolutely immobilised in fear.
"You alright over there?" Someone asked, and I looked over to see Jake looking at me, and Josh sending me short glances, his eyes trained mostly on the road.
"Yes," I said tightly, to both of them, not knowing which had asked the question. "You know, you should really put a seatbelt on," I said to Jake, anxiously watching his positioning between us both.
He smiled, ruffling the hair on top of my head before landing his hand gently on my shoulder, "You sure you're okay? You seem a bit tense."
I swallowed and sent him my most convincing smile, bile rising in my throat each time I took my eyes off the road.
"Yes," I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly.
"Holy fuck," Josh spat, and I whipped my head to the road before us.
I braced my hands on the dashboard in front of me, as Josh slammed on his breaks, narrowly avoiding the red pickup truck which had decided to run his red light into the intersection. Jake nearly fell forward into my seat, and I heard Danny and Sam fall into the back of Josh and my seats.
Josh leaned out the window and flipped him off, yelling profanities as the pickup drove away carelessly.
"What the fuck!" Someone yelled.
While the rest of the car complained and cursed, I couldn't manage to tear my eyes from the road before us, where our cars would have collided, had Josh not stopped.
"Are you fuckin' serious?"
"What a fucking prick."
"I swear to God, it's always the pickup drivers, think they own the whole road."
Jake plopped back into his seat in the back, and I heard the boys click their seatbelts in, clearly shaken from the risk of being in an accident.
"Is everyone alright?" Josh asked, looking through the rear view at the three in the back. I didn't hear their responses. My hearing went fuzzy. I'd been submerged under a body of water.
I didn't know how much time had passed, but we were moving again. The car had gone quiet. Or maybe it hadn't, but I couldn't hear anything.
My stomach churned, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on something in particular, but everything was happening. But nothing was happening too. My nails were digging into the soft flesh of my palm, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the oxygen I'd been depriving them of since the car had stopped.
My jaw was clenched so tight, I could imagine the sound of my teeth as they ground together, crumbling under each others weight and falling lose in my mouth.
I was going to be sick.
Josh was talking to me, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I could see his mouth moving in my peripheral, and he even placed a hand on my thigh at one point. I knew he was trying to get my attention, but I couldn't pull my consciousness from that deep, dark place in my head.
I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.
I glanced down at my stomach, at where I knew a scar lay, sheathed beneath clothing. I looked further to my thigh, where a metal rod sat, invisible under layers of muscle, blood and skin.
I could smell the ghost of blood. My chest rose and fell, yet it felt like the water I'd been submerged under was filling them up slowly.
My breathing shallowed immensely around the time we turned the corner onto our street.
I knew I was about to have a panic attack. I had had them before, but never with so many people around. I was dying to go inside and break down. Alone.
The moment the car stopped in front of my house, I swung the door open, muttering a thanks, and shutting it behind me before speeding up the path to my porch. My breaths came out quick and uncontrolled, and someone grabbed my arm behind me. I couldn't breathe.
I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick all over me and all over Josh and all over the pavement below us.
"Layla, what's going on?" Josh was in front of me, and I couldn't bear the look on his face. My hands landed on my head, tugging at the roots of my hair.
"Nothing, I-" My breath caught in my throat. Panicked, my eyes widened and I tried to take a breath in, but I couldn't. My lungs were full of lead. There wasn't any space left.
My hand shot to my throat, as my lungs begged me for air.
Disorientated and panicked, I stumbled backwards and my back hit something but I didn't feel it as I slid down onto the floor.
I couldn't breathe.
"Fuck," Josh spoke, dropping down to my level. He touched my hands, my face, my arms, trying his hardest to comfort me. "What can I do, Layla?"
I couldn't speak. I was going to pass out, my head going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen.
Then Josh was gone, and Sam was in front of me. Pain was radiating from my scalp as I ripped at the roots of my hair.
"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" Sam asked, his hands reaching up to my own and removing them from their assault on my hair.
I nodded, "Sa-Sam," I gasped, "I- I can't-"
"It's okay, you don't need to talk, you're finding it hard to breathe?" He asked.
I could smell blood again, and when I looked down at my hands I could see drops of it falling from my palm, crescent moon marks from my nails embedded in them. I nodded in response, feeling bile rise in my throat, the smell of blood clawing out my darkest memories. Memories I would give anything to forget.
"Can you try and take a deep breath out for me?" He asked. I was gasping for air now, trying my hardest to let air into my lungs. Sam watched me intently, "Stop trying to breathe in, you need to make space in your lungs for the air first."
My vision was going blurry with panic. I could only see Sam's face. I could smell blood. I couldn't hear anyone but him. Where had everyone gone? My chest felt tight, I couldn't breathe. My eyes were glued to my hands, blood dipping onto the wooden deck below.
"Layla. Look at me," Sam ordered, his hands on the sides of my face, "Concentrate."
His stern tone brought me back for a moment.
"Breathe out with me," he said, opening his mouth and letting a long deep breath out. I tried to do the same, regaining control of my lungs and huffing out a short breath, only to sharply inhale again, my lungs burning for air.
"Good. Again, just a bit longer this time," he instructed gently, repeating his actions, and as if an elastic band had been released from my windpipe, my shoulders dropped, and a heave of air left my lungs. I gasped in a breath, panting heavily at the function of my lungs, and collapsed forward into him, a sob falling from my lips. He wrapped me up in his arms tightly, and began to rock us back and forth gently on the floor.
"Breathe, that's it, just breathe," he whispered.
My hands shook as I held them close to my body. Taking a clearer look at the world now, I could tell that it was around sunset, and as the sun had set behind the trees, the air had dropped to a cooler chill.
Not much time passed when the pressure in my ears had released and I could hear the sound of both my own and Sam's breaths in the silence of the empty world we sat in.
I lifted my head from his chest, and he released his arm around me. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, smiling sheepishly at him, and muttered a small apology. He only shook his head.
We both sat on the concrete floor, and I untucked my legs to sprawl them out before us, while Sam copied.
"Danny, um... Danny told me you would be able to help," I said quietly, "He said you get anxiety..."
He looked out to the street, as if deep in thought before speaking, "Yeah, it can get pretty bad sometimes."
I placed my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. And thank you, so much for that, I don't- I don't know what I was going to do..." I said aimlessly.
He cleared his throat, and looked over at me, "It's okay," he smiled sweetly. "Did something cause it? Or..."
I sighed. It was my turn to look out at the street now. I could feel him looking at me for an answer, so I merely nodded my head, before letting it drop forward limply, exhausted with everything.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked quietly. As much as I wanted to say no, I was tired of keeping it to myself. I needed to tell someone. The secret was eating me from the inside and I desperately wanted to get it off my chest.
So, I nodded quickly, "Yes please." I glanced over to him, "If you don't mind."
Josh's POV
I could have guessed something was up with Layla the moment we got into the car. Her avoidant stares and fiddling hands served as an immidiate warning that something was wrong.
Though, once we'd exited the car, she seemed okay again, her anxiety only fluctuating in spurs, rendering me useless in trying to help her.
I began to feel truely worried once we reached the grocery store. Never had I seen her so... absent.
She wasn't speaking, and I could see the tremor in her hands which she had balled into tight fists. It was common for her to tuck her hair behind her ears when she was nervous or anxious too, and I caught her reaching up to brush away hair that wasn't even there from her face.
Every fibre of my being wanted to hold her, help her, calm her. It broke me to see her like that, and all I could do was sit by uselessly and watch.
After the near accident at the intersection, I knew she was going to break. I tried to speak to her, distract her, take her attention away from whatever was going on in her head, yet her mind seemed trapped in a place very far away.
"Layla, what's going on?' I would ask, even going as far as to place my hand on her thigh, shaking gently to catch her attention. But it was to no avail.
"Please, talk to me, are you okay?" I asked. Luckily, the boys had taken notice to Laylas mood, and distracted themselves with talk of the band and upcoming concerts, allowing me to feebly try my hardest to help her without worrying about prying ears.
Frustrated, and trying my absolute hardest to get through to her, I worriedly glanced into the rear view mirror where I made eye contact with Jake, who looked back at me in understanding, having heard my efforts.
Soon, we rounded the corner to our street, and Layla burst from her seat before I had the chance to fully stop the car. I jumped out of my seat and ran after her as she sped down the path to her house. I could hear her heaving breaths from behind her, and my own anxiety increased tenfold.
I took hold of her hand, and she whipped around, eyes red and wide, and her chest was having in panic.
"Layla, what's going on?" I asked worriedly. She looked everywhere but at me, eyes darting to he road and car, and then to the floor. She grabbed the roots of her hair and held tightly, wild strands of it falling around her arms and face.
"Nothing, I-" Her breath caught.
She was having a panic attack. A bad one. I had been around while Sam went through this many times, but never one this bad. She struggled to take in a breath, focusing on inhaling and clearly neglecting a much needed exhale.
One of her hands shot to her throat and she stumbled back into the pillar of her porch steps, hitting her head painfully. Yet she didn't seem to notice, as she slid to the floor, gasping for air.
"Fuck," I whispered, dropping down to my knees before her. I reached out for her, touching her arms and face and, fuck, I didn't know what I was doing. She wasn't breathing and I feared she was going to pass out any moment.
"What can I do, Layla?" I asked frantically, her eyes going cloudy with exhaustion.
I grasped onto her shoulders firmly, "Please just breathe, Layla." But she wasn't listening. Panicked, I turned around to find Jake behind me, but I knew by the helpless look on his face, he wouldn't be much better at helping than I.
Sam lingered with Danny by the car, clearly hesitating to intrude.
"Sam!" I yelled desperately and he stepped in quickly, practically pushing me out of the road, and taking Layla's harsh hands away from her hair.
"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" He asked gently.
She nodded, trying to speak through gasps, "Sa-Sam, I- I can't-"
I was torn. My heart aching at the sight of her, broken and fragile. Blood was on her hands, I didn't know how, but there was. And then Sam was waving the group of us off, but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't leave her.
He turned around briefly, "Go, she needs space." Jake took me by the arm and led me to the car where our pile of groceries sat.
We picked them up in silence and walked them over to our house, unlocking the door and entering the warmth of the home. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking up dinner when we unloaded the groceries into the fridge and pantry.
I rushed to one of the living room windows, the one that didn't look into Laylas kitchen, but instead had a view of the front of her house, where I could see the figures of Sam and Layla sat on the pavement.
I sat on the couch and leaned my arms on its back, peering out and watching them. She seemed to have calmed down now, her body still as she looked out to the street apart from her mouth which was moving silently. Sam was doing the same, yet it looked like he was listening to whatever she had to say.
A pang of jealousy shot through me and I hated myself for it. But I couldn't help but wish she would talk to me too.
Jake and Danny saddled up to the couch next to me, and one of them patted me on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, she's alright," Jake said. But we both knew my sour mood surpassed worry for her, as I ached to know the root of her unhappiness.
Don't get me wrong, I felt like I was being torn from head to toe at the idea of her being upset, sad, worried, panicked, afraid. But my inability to get her to fully open up to me was killing me.
I knew she was hiding something. Something from her past. I had seen the scar on her stomach, and the way she frequently rubbed her thigh, wincing in pain. But she would always cover up, and mask her discomfort when she caught be staring, and I hated it.
My insides were screaming for her to open up. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know every inch of her mind, her body, her soul.
And it broke me to know she didn't trust me enough.
After a painful hour of waiting around with Danny and Jake in the living room, I heard the front door open, our heads whipping at the sound to watch as Sam stepped in with what I could only describe as a look of sympathy. Layla followed behind him timidly, her head cast down, but eyes peeking up around the room.
I stood up from my spot on the couch, desperate to do something. To hold her.
Mom stepped into the room at the sound of the door and smiled brightly when she saw Layla.
"Oh hello Layla dear, are you joining us for dinner tonight?" She asked, slipping off a pair of oven gloves.
Layla nervously glanced up at Sam, whose eyes caught mine for a beat before he spoke, "Hey Mom, actually, could Layla stay the night? Her parents aren't home and-"
"Of course! I don't have to be the only woman in the house dealing with you lot," she remarked, and Layla smiled.
"Thank you," she said kindly.
Mom walked out of the room and back into the kitchen and the room went quiet.
"Sam, wanna head up and you can show me the new headset you got?" Danny asked, dragging Sam along with him up the stairs, and Jake stood too, scratching the back of his head.
"I've uh, got some stuff to do," he said plainly, walking out of the room, leaving Layla and I standing alone, staring at each other.
In a blink she was in my arms, both of us having rushed to close the space between us. She clung to me tightly, and I breathed in her scent, swaying on the spot. I sighed at the feeling of her in my arms again.
When she pulled away, I took her hands and looked down at the blood on them. Frowning, I narrowed my gaze on the bloody crescent shapes on her palm, where her nails had dug so harshly into her hands that she had broken skin.
"I can help you clean this up... If you'd like," I asked timidly, unsure of how fragile she still was, not wanting to spur on another panic attack.
"Yes please" she whispered.
Once in the bathroom, I wet a rag and wiped off the blood from her hands, including the dried drops that ran down her forearms. She winced when I accidentally ran the rag across one of the fresh cuts.
"Sorry," I said, pulling back and looking at her.
She sighed deeply, staring at me in silence for a minute, looking as if she was around to burst.
"I'm so sorry Josh. I don't know what happened I just- I don't know, but thank you for being there," she blurted out, her expression close to tears.
I reached a hand up to her face where streak of dried tears marked her cheeks, "Please don't apologise." She nodded.
"Are you okay now? Do you want to talk about it? I asked, and when she shook her head 'no', I frowned.
"I'm okay now, but.. I kind of want to forget it happened."
"That doesn't sound very healthy," I commented, smirking, and she smiled at me.
"Do you think your Mum will let me get away with not having dinner?" She asked and my frown returned.
"Why don't you want dinner?" I asked back.
"I just feel a little sick still. I usually lose my appetite when... that happens."
"Does it happen a lot?" I asked and she looked away, biting her lip gently.
"No, not a lot. But sometimes." She said quietly, clearly done with this conversation. I guess that's all I was getting out of her then.
"I'll talk to her. But it'd be best if you keep yourself busy while we eat. I don't think she could live with herself if you sat at the table with an empty plate," I told her.
She laughed a little, and then sighed, "I love your mum." A flicker of sadness crossed her face, before she regained her facade again, "I'll take a shower while you all eat then."
Dinner went by quickly, and I practically inhaled my plate to get away from the table as soon as I could. Mom wasn't happy with Laylas absence, but I assured her that it was for the best. I had given Layla some of my pyjamas for her to use for the night, and as soon as I heard the shower turn off, I was dying to see her.
When I cleaned up my dish and left the kitchen, Layla was setting up some sheets and pillows on the couch.
"What are you doing?" I asked her. She had tied her hair up and she stood in some red plaid pants with a green hoodie on top.
My God was she beautiful.
"Getting ready for bed?" She questioned, fluffing up the pillow and seating herself onto the couch atop the duvet cover.
"No, no I can't let you sleep out here. Sleep in my bed, I'll sleep here," I insisted.
"I don't mind," she smiled, slipping under the covers.
I dragged a hand down my face, very unhappy with these sleeping arrangements. "What about the guest room?" I smiled, proud to have solved the issue.
"Your mom told me it was being repainted," she commented.
"Fuck, you're right. Ronnies room?" I tried again.
"I already texted her, she'll be home in about thirty minutes. Don't worry, Josh. I'm fine, really." She gave me a reassuring smile, but I still wasn't happy.
I pursed my lips, "I'll come down here too then."
"What?" She asked, but I was already gone, grabbing a thick yoga mat from my room, and stripping the covers from my bed to bring down with me. Ignoring Layla's protests, I set up a makeshift bed on the floor beside the couch, slipping under and getting comfortable.
"Far out, fine. But when you wake up in the morning with a bad back, don't blame me," she commented, and I smiled, glad her witty personality was back.
Jake came in for a glass of water, bidding us both goodnight as he switched off the light.
Cloaked in darkness, I rolled over toward the couch, looking up to where Layla was already looking at me, "Good night, Layla," I whispered.
"Goodnight Josh."