Panic Attacks // Ruel // English

Chapter 80

There I am. Full of tension and nerves in the waiting room. The waiting room of the police station. The room is white. There are tiles on the floor, simple white tiles. The walls are painted white with the occasional posters related to the police. Some certificates here and there. If you look at the ceiling you will be blinded by the bright fluorescent lights. There are some dark blue upholstered chairs here, strangely enough to sit comfortably. The dark cabinets do not make the room feel like a hospital. Occasionally people in uniform pass by. And we just keep waiting.

My leg can't stop shaking. The peace in my body is hard to find. Ruel notices that my leg keeps moving up and down. I don't know if it stirs his own nerves, but he puts his hand on my thigh and gently rubs his thumb back and forth. While holding my hand with his other hand. I can't help but hold it just a little too tight.

Ruel: "It'll be fine." Ruel reassures me.

His words just don't get through. I can't believe them. It might be okay here, but where we really end up won't be okay in the end. It's never worked out.

I want to get out of here. Gone very quickly. Every now and then a police officer walks by and looks our way. Sees the dark abuse marks on my neck and then looks at Ruel with slight horror. I sigh and roll my eyes. I hate when people judge before they know the whole story. Ruel would never have been here with me if he was the one who did this to me. I would never trust him again. Every time I want to get up and scream that it's not Ruel's fault, that he's not the one who did this to me. But then I feel Ruel's hand squeezing mine and he keeps me silent in my chair. But I don't want to just let it go. That's not how I'm put together.

Ruel seems to be able to get rid of this biased behavior more easily. Slowly he tries to continue the conversation. He carefully asks questions. Afraid to say something that will make me even more stressed. But how bad can the nerves get?

Ruel: "Why did you go to Austin anyway?" He doesn't make eye contact when he asks. My eyes look to the ground. Guilty that he had to ask this question to get answers to the questions in his own head.

Yasmine: "My intention was not to go to Austin." I say with a sigh.

Nervously I put my nails in my palm. My fists clenched with tension.

Yasmine: "I went to Nola. Actually I was unprepared, I had no plan. It was more out of a blind panic. Which turned out not to be very smart."

Ruel remains silent. Hoping I'll lead the conversation and tell him more information.

Somehow I want to tell him. I'll tell him why I needed to go to Nola. But it's a chaos in my head and everything has to find a place first. It happened so fast that I don't know what to do with everything. That I don't even know where to start. But we are here now anyway, someday he will find out.

Yasmine: "When I was going through Nola's book I came across a letter. It was from Justin, written for me. But I had so many questions that I went to her." And that's when I start tripping over my words. I cannot pronounce the following words.

Ruel: "So? What did she say about it?" Ruel asks out of curiosity.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Hope the door opens in the distance and someone comes for me. Unfortunately that is not the case.

Yasmine: "He was depressed. He had decided to write a letter to me, because he knew that one day he would not be able to say those words to me anymore. Nola hid it from me because this was the only part of him that was still completely intact."

I can't tell him he was suicidal. Then it becomes a long story that I cannot tell.

Finally someone comes to get me. Clearly informed about the situation. The woman looks politely at Ruel and gives him a small nod before disappearing into a room with me. A room that is even bareer than the waiting area. There is nothing more than a table, chair and a hanging light. The room is gray and drab, that's all. It is exactly the room you would describe if it were one from a police movie.

She asks me if I want to sit down and I do. The woman, who introduced herself as Brooke, reassures me as she tells me what she's going to do. Among other things, photos will be taken again and I will be interrogated. Also, the hoodie I was wearing that day will be confiscated, hopefully they will find DNA that comes from skin flakes. The DNA they need is in the system. It's not like Austin is a stranger here.

She asks if I want to take off my sweater and I do. Actually, I have little choice. If I were to resist, they would surely choose the hard-handed way. Press me against the table and cut open my clothes. Until they have the result they want. The woman takes the camera and starts photographing the spots on my neck. The hair being gently pulled from my neck feels like I'm being stripped completely naked. Like I'm being made very vulnerable. The spots have not been as visible as today. The colors have become very dark. At first it was red, but then it got darker and darker. At night I sometimes woke up from the pain that would flow through my body. I had just been laying in the wrong position. Photos of my wrists are also taken. You can almost see the exact handprint. The spot in my side has already gone away, although the sore spot is still there. Affected on the inside.

For a while I am left alone in the silent room. Waiting for Brooke to come back. Came back with a whole pile of papers. I still recognize it. I've seen and read it many times before. And now it's time to add one more. How terribly unfortunate that is. But finally I'm starting to get some hope in it. I'm starting to get hopes when Brooke says she's going to get involved in the case herself, because she thinks it's been going on long enough. Again and again everything is shut down because they get stuck here at the police station and have no idea where to look. And yet they continue to receive information from me. Yet again they fail. I'd better do the work myself. Perhaps the suspects will finally be punished for what they have done. I don't even want to think about all the other victims.

I find it extremely difficult to open up about what happened. I haven't done that with anyone yet. Not in all the details. I prefer to avoid moments like this. I know I have to go back to that moment. I will start to empathize again with the things that have happened. I will feel everything again. All the fear, all the fighting spirit. But I will feel the loss of the battle, touch me and bring me down. It turns myself back in, isolating me, and then I block. Out of protection, I cannot tell about traumatic events. My mind won't allow me to think about this. Involuntary. That's different when I panic. Then everything comes up, all the fears. But then I can't speak either. Just feel. The details are the painful parts. The sharp shards of glass that cut into your skin. All those broken pieces together make up the complete story. Again and again it feels like every shard has to cut into my skin before it has a chance to heal again. Like it has to use my blood to stick together. But the pain is slowly becoming unbearable. I do my best to tell her little by little the story. She says she's in no rush, but still. It gives me more time. A little more peace of mind to tackle it at my own pace.

I spent maybe two hours in this room. How I entered the room full of tension, I now walk out the door relieved. It feels like she really listened to me. Wants to genuinely help me and not just because it's her job. She's showing interest rather than the cold behavior of all those other cops I've met. You don't feel heard that way. They only do their job to get paid.

Ruel is still on the other side of the room, only now talking to a police officer. It seems like a serious conversation, which they end when they see me.

Brooke: "Oh Yasmine wait!" Brooke yells from across the room as I want to grab Ruel's hand and actually leave this building. For now. I'll probably be here again soon to hear about the progress. Hopefully.

I walk back and look at her with furrowed eyebrows. She takes a card from her breast pocket and hands it to me. I close it in my hands and make sure I don't lose it.

Brooke: "You can reach me if you think you need me."

I leave her again with a soft nod and a thank you. I'm leaving this place. When I step outside I take a deep breath.

Ruel: "I'm proud of you." Ruel says as he kisses the side of my head. My heart warms and the look in my eyes immediately becomes fuller, happier.