Everything with you

Part 60

Emma

Everything was spinning.

I couldn't hear the car anymore—couldn't hear that man Henry or the crunch of his boots on the pavement or the low growl of that awful SUV driving away. But my heart wouldn't slow down. It slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape, and my breath came in short, sharp bursts that didn't feel like they were doing anything at all.

Justin's hands were on me, gently brushing my shoulders, cupping my face, his voice low and tight. "Emma. Hey—hey, are you okay? Talk to me. Em, please."

I blinked at him, but I couldn't speak. My throat felt like it was closing. I felt like I was drowning even though I was sitting right here in the open air.

It was happening again.

Just like last time.

Just like that night.

Weeks ago, near this exact lot. After a late shift, alone. That group of men. The way they'd grabbed me. The way I'd frozen then too. The helplessness. The fear that made my limbs feel like stone. That memory was sharp now, clearer than the streetlight above me, clearer than Justin's panicked face.

"Emma?" Justin's voice cracked. "What's wrong?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

He gently eased me down, guiding me to sit on the pavement like I was glass. "Sit down, breathe. I've got you, okay?"

My legs folded beneath me, and I let myself sink. I was shaking. My hands were ice.

"Emma," Nate's voice came from somewhere nearby. "Hey. Breathe with me, alright? Just follow me. In, out. That's it."

He was kneeling beside me now, wincing as he moved, one arm cradling his side. His jaw was bruised and his bottom lip split, blood trailing down his chin and onto the collar of his shirt. There was blood on his leg, too—his jeans torn near the thigh, and dark red soaking through the fabric.

I stared at it and felt the panic surge up again, rising in my throat like fire.

Justin saw my eyes widen and immediately shifted, holding my face in both hands, forcing me to look at him.

"Hey. Eyes on me," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "Look at me, Em. Not him. Just me."

My lips parted, but all I could do was breathe—short and ragged and too fast.

"I've got you. Okay?" he whispered, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "You're safe now. Just you and me. Nothing else matters."

I nodded, barely, and gripped his hand.

"In," Justin said gently, guiding me through it, "come on, breathe with me. In through the nose..."

I inhaled, shaky and shallow.

"Good. Now out, through the mouth."

We did it again. And again. My body was still trembling, but each breath made the world a little less tilted. A little less loud. My fingers wrapped tighter around his, and I felt a steady pulse—his—anchoring me.

Nate was beside us, bruised and bloodied but still checking in. "You're doing good, Em. Just stay with us. You're okay."

I finally looked at him, just for a moment. His jaw was swelling. His lip was crusted with blood. His lap soaked through. But he still gave me the faintest of smiles—like I was the only one who mattered.

That made something loosen in my chest. Not go away—but loosen.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, barely audible. "I didn't know what to do. I just—"