We Go Way Back

chapter seven

 I HEAR VOICES, I hear music, but I can't understand if it's real or if I'm dreaming. I feel heavy, so heavy, like there's a cement block on my belly. My head hurts. When I open my eyes, I'm met with a blinding white light.

I'm scared. I have no idea of what happened or where I am, and I can't speak. I breathe faster and faster, looking around. To one side there's a closet, on the other, long drapes that I cannot figure the start and end of. I try to speak once more, but only a moan comes out. I attempt to lift my head up, but it hurts. It hurts so bad, tears spring in my eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey."

The voice sounds like it's underwater, but a shadow appears over me a few seconds before a face enters my field of vision. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it is Corbin hovering over me. His forehead is creased with concerned lines and his amber eyes are wide open. It's been a while since I've last seen him in this position.

"Don't try to get up, Delilah," he tells me, but I am freaking out way too much to register the words. My eyes dart around the room and my chest hurts as I hyperventilate. My body feels numb, and tears start rushing down the sides of my face. What the fuck is happening? "Calm down, please," he continues, attempting to soothe me. "You're okay." Corbin places a hand on each side of my face, forcing me to look up at him. His thumbs stroke my cheekbones rhythmically, calming me down. I mimic his breathing, inhaling slowly and exhaling even slower. "You fainted in the elevator, I found you and brought you to bed. I'm going to get you a glass of water with sugar, and you'll feel better."

It takes me a few minutes to feel alive again, and only then do I remember the events that led to this. I remember going to practice. I remember going to my classes and spending the time between them writing essays. I remember working a shift at Angie's and having a second workout at the Shellhouse. I remember stepping off the bus in front of Corbin's apartment. As I hopped out, I was flooded by a sudden nausea. It built in my stomach and rose to my throat; my head started spinning. My sight was spotted with blotches of black and my skin felt hot. I blinked a couple of times, but my vision only tunneled further.

I knew I was static on the sidewalk, but it felt like I was swaying from side to side. My breathing quickened and I lowered my head, trying to regain my composure. The more time that passed, the more freaked out I got. I had never felt this before. I mustered whatever energy I had left and took a few steps. I knew that Corbin's apartment was just down the street, so I stumbled across the sidewalk until my hand met the front of a building. I used it to guide me down the street until I recognized the lobby of his building.

If I drink a glass of water, I'll be fine, I just need to get up to the apartment, that was all I could think. I pressed the button to the sixth floor, leaned my forehead against the wall, but I never made it up here.

Corbin returns with water mixed with sugar a few seconds after leaving me in his bed, utterly scared. He helps me sit up against the fluffed pillows and lifts the glass up to my lips. My throat feels clogged and dry, so I cough a little bit as I drink, but the water works wonders. My body regains energy, the fog in my mind dissipates a little bit and I feel more like myself. However, the back of my head hurts like hell.

I bring my fingers to the sore place and run them over a small bump.

"Let me see," Corbin says, setting the glass on the nightstand. I fold over myself, and he kneels by my side, his fingers gently parting my hair to find the wound. "It's not bleeding, but you hit your head hard."

"Yeah," I croak out hoarsely, ignoring the pins and needles that have settled in the place where his hand just was. My throat still hurts, and my neck feels stiff. "I guess, so."

"What did you have to eat today?"

I fall back onto the pillows, and he slides off the bed. "Pancakes. Coffee," I recall from this morning, and then I can't think of anything else. "More coffee," I add, shamefully.