The lunch rush is relentless, a whirlwind of orders and customers that leaves little room for thought. I move through the restaurant like a well-oiled machine, taking orders, serving food, and trying to keep my mind off Sienna.
But as the hours drag on, it becomes harder to focus. The laughter and chatter around me fade into a dull hum, and my mind drifts back to the shadows I've tried to forget.
As I rinse out a glass, a flash of memory cuts through the fog. I see my father's face, twisted in anger, his voice a thunderous roar echoing in my mind. "You're worthless!" he'd scream. "You'll never amount to anything!"
I drop the glass, the sound shattering my focus. It tumbles to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.
"Hey, Theo! You okay?" Mark calls out from across the bar, snapping me back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm fine!" I reply, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. I force a smile, but I can feel the sweat trickling down my back.
The laughter and chatter around me start to fade again, replaced by the haunting echoes of my past. I can feel my chest tightening, each breath becoming more labored than the last.
I glance around, but the restaurant feels like it's closing in on me. I need to get out.
"Taking a break!" I call out as I push through the kitchen door, heading outside. The cool air hits me, but it's not enough to chase away the heat rising in my chest.
I lean against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to steady my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
But it's no use. The memories come rushing back, each one a wave crashing over me, pulling me under. I see my mother, tears streaming down her face as she watches my father lose control. The feeling of helplessness washes over me, and I'm drowning in it.
I grip the wall, my knuckles turning white as I try to fight it. "Not again," I whisper to myself, but my heart races, pounding against my ribcage.
Suddenly, I'm back in that old house, my father's shouts echoing through the halls. I can't breathe. I can't move. Panic seizes me, tightening its grip around my throat.
"Just breathe, just breathe," I chant, but my voice shakes, the words barely escaping my lips. I slide down the wall, curling into myself as the world spins around me.
The memories keep coming, each one more vivid than the last. I see myself as a child, cowering in the corner, trying to make myself invisible as my father raged. I remember the feeling of isolation, the shame of being trapped in a cycle of anger and neglect.
My heart races, and I feel like I'm suffocating. I can't escape it. I can't escape him.
"Theo?"
The voice cuts through the chaos, and I look up to see Mark standing over me, concern etched on his face.
"Hey, man, are you alright?" he asks, kneeling down to my level.
"I can't... I can't breathe," I gasp, the words barely forming.
Mark nods, his expression shifting to one of understanding. "Okay, just focus on me. We're going to breathe together. In and out, alright?"
I try to follow his instructions, but my breaths come in shallow gasps. "I can't..."
"Just trust me," he says firmly. "Breathe in through your nose. One, two, three... now out through your mouth. One, two, three."
I try to focus on his voice, the rhythm he sets calming the storm in my mind. Slowly, I feel the tightness in my chest start to ease, and I manage to take a deeper breath.
"There you go," Mark encourages. "Just keep going. You're doing great."
Gradually, the memories fade, the edges of panic dulling as I latch onto the present. I can feel the ground beneath me, the coolness of the wall at my back.
After what feels like an eternity, I finally manage to catch my breath. "Thanks," I whisper, shame flooding through me. "I'm sorry for—"
"Don't apologize," Mark interrupts gently. "We all have our battles, man. Just know you're not alone, okay?"
I nod, the weight of gratitude filling my chest. "Yeah. I just... it's hard sometimes."
"I get it. Just take it one day at a time." He claps my shoulder, and I manage a shaky smile.
As I stand up, I feel the last remnants of panic slipping away. But I know the memories won't vanish completely. They'll always be there, lurking just beneath the surface.
As we head back inside, I can't shake the feeling that the past will always be a part of me, but maybe—just maybe—I can find a way to move forward.
