The Miracle Place

4.

JANE BROKE OUT into a run, no longer running from the man but from herself. Never in a million years did Jane think she'd ever be caught lighting someone up, even if they deserved it. Didn't he deserve it? She could hear Peter talking her through it. I didn't know him. Maybe he was hungry. Like me, she thought. He pulled a knife on you, She imagined him saying. You defended yourself. It's not your fault, it's theirs.

When Jane was faced with an internal problem, she'd turn to Peter. Even if he wasn't really there, it was easier for her to see the sensibility in things when it was coming from him. He was always the one to defend her first. Maybe it was unhealthy, but so was living on the streets at fourteen years old. Jane didn't have another option.

She kept running and running. She looked back once and there was a man chasing her. Sprinting towards her. They must have seen it happen, and they were going to report her. She ran faster, turning into an alley, only to be caught at a dead end. Without stopping, she ducked behind a dumpster, and clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her crying and heavy breaths.

She heard the man skid to a stop, breathing heavy. "Jane?" He called softly. "It's me. Billy."

Jane didn't move from her spot.

He came closer and sat down against the side of the dumpster, right behind her shoulder. "You really scared yourself, huh?"

Jane removed her hand, releasing a sob. "Sor..." She gasped quietly, shocked at herself.

"It's okay. You did what you had to do."

Screw silence. She didn't need that right now, she didn't care anymore. "Is he - dead?" She asked through hiccups. "Oh God, is he dead?" Her breathing was either really thick or barely there. She couldn't tell and it was sending her into a spiral. Her chest hurt and her legs shook.

Billy moved to sit against the wall in front of her, his legs tucked to his chest, mirroring her position. "No, he's not dead."

"I'm sorry - he had a knife... I was just... I was..."

"Defending yourself," Billy finished.

Jane stomped her foot against the ground. "I can't breathe. Oh God, I'm dying - my chest hurts, I'm dying!" She had felt worse pain, but that was all intentional. This had never happened to Jane.

"You're not dying, Jane." Billy's voice was calm. "You just need to focus on your breathing."

"What's happening to me?" She sobbed.

"You're having a panic attack. I get them, too, sometimes." He was holding his hand out as if she was a spooked animal. "Deep breath, I'll do it with you-"

"I can't!"

"Yes you can, you do it all the time. In... and out. It's that easy."

It should've been easy, but Jane had forgotten how. She was starting to wonder how she had managed to live this long if she couldn't even figure out breathing. Eventually, she was able to breathe a little easier. But then the sirens blared in the distance. And she went back to panicking.

Billy was on his feet in seconds. "Come on, let's get you out of here." He gave her a hand, pulling her to her feet. "The bag, do you need it?" He asked. Jane nodded frantically. He sighed, "What if we take what's in it and leave the bag, is that alright?"

"Why can't we take the bag?"

"If that guy isn't dead-"

"If?!"