ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ
𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 closing in on me. My head felt light but my limbs felt heavy. My feet pushed me forward but I wanted to stay put--no, I wanted to be as far away from the man in front of me as I could. My heart wanted out of my chest. I didn't blame it. I wanted out of me too.
"Hey, Maeve Baby," Dad softly said, a fragile smile pulling on his face as he looked at me. "How's my favorite girl been doing?"
His 'favorite girl'? Are you kidding me?
I felt a hand slip onto my wrist, pressing two fingers to my pulse. It was Adam. It was always Adam, my best friend. The person who kept me sane when I thought I was losing it.
"Your mom, uh-" he continued with a cough when I didn't answer. "She told me you were coming out here for hockey. I thought I'd come to see you."
"Mom called you?" I choked out.
I don't know why that was the only thing I could say. My mom, Felicity Williams, hadn't called my dad ever. But, now she did? Now?
"Yeah, Maevie."
My eyes became fuzzy when he called me that. My childhood nickname. The only one he ever called me. My hearing was overpowered by a buzz. Everything went in and out. The walls were moving. I was breathing heavily. My stomach felt bottomless. I feel sick.
I need to lie down.
I need to hydrate.
Or maybe eat something.
I need to breathe.
I need to be anywhere but here.
My knees start to feel weak. So weak that I can't hold myself up. My chest collapsed. I was dying. I had to be dying.
"Hey, Maeve!" someone called out, but it was muffled--their touch was delicate, or maybe it was strong. I don't know. I couldn't feel anything.
Someone was hitting me over the head with an ax, repeatedly. My skull was splitting. Breaking. My throat was drenched with gasoline and lit with flames. I was suddenly so cold.
I couldn't breathe and I hurt everywhere and I must be dying.
Voices ranged from shouts to whispers and back to shouts. I heard everything and nothing all at once.
"She's having a panic attack."
"Maeve-" I knew it was Dad who said this.
"You need to leave," Guy cut him off.
Am I falling into a universe where Guy Germaine cares about me? Or am I just falling?
"Shit, Adam, what do we do?"
"I-I don't know," stammered Adam. "She hasn't had one in a long time."
"Everyone, go to the bus," another voice ordered. They sounded calm while I had never felt so out of myself. "Adam, help me get her into the locker room."
For a moment I felt okay again, I felt supported. But then I realized arms held me up. And I was not okay.
"You're gonna be alright, M," Adam said.
I needed to feel his heartbeat. I needed to feel him alive. I reached for his wrist. It was rushed but it was there.
The back of my legs collided with a cool countertop. My head rested against the wall. There was a mirror beside me. I was in the bathroom. Adam was in front of me, his hand on my neck--trying to keep me from passing out.
