Broken- And Fixed Again- (A Jamilton Fanfic)

Chapter 5: All We Can Do Is Breathe

//TW: swearing, mentions of abuse, emotional manipulation, and panic attacks\\

And then here's a rlly calming classical composition that is 10/10 would rate again

Thomas

I couldn't breathe.

Despite every little word in the back of my mind telling me just to focus on my breathing, everything seemed to be spiraling out of control faster than I could reach out and hold them together.

I tried so hard, especially with Alexander walking by my side, his eyes dead-set ahead of him, but I just couldn't breathe. The air was being squeezed out of my lungs by cold, clammy hands, and I couldn't breathe, haunted by the only truth I knew.

When James found out, he would kill me. He would hurt me, he would beat me, and he would kill me long before he ever let me run off with somebody else. He had told me as much a countless number of times, that he'd rather see me dead than with somebody that wasn't him. But even worse, he'd hurt Alexander, and it would have been all my fault. And he would make me sit there and watch, wouldn't he? Because James thrives on control.

My fingers twitched as I tried to recenter my thoughts on the two words playing through my mind every couple of seconds.

In.

It was surprisingly difficult, to remember to breathe. It took so much forgetting, so much putting the rest of the world aside actively. And in the end, what exactly did just breathing accomplish? It didn't solve anything. It didn't make my problems magically go away. It didn't do anything at all, so why was it so important when I could be coming up with a thousand different excuses?

Out.

Because at the moment, it was all I could do.

I forced my hands flat, risking a glance over at Alexander. He must have noticed me and my "concealed" anxiety out of the corner of his eye, for the determined anger faded from his face as he cast me a small, reassuring smile that was tight, but genuine. The waves of calm that radiated off of him were almost enough to still my heart beating against my chest.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I mean, umm, thank you for coming to do this with me." I gripped at my sweater sleeves, breathing in as much of the still air as I could. "Especially when you didn't have to."

Alex softened, his hand brushing against mine. It must have been an accident. "Look, there's nothing else in the world I'd rather be doing right now." And then, his expression turned sour. "I hope Madison isn't in there," he muttered darkly underneath his breath.

In.

We reached the door. The daunting, massive door I had spent too many hours sobbing behind the other side of. A twinge of panic stirred just as the sight of the bronze plaque reading those three numbers, numbers I had grown to dread. It was just a room, no different from any other, and yet, it was tainted with so many horrible memories and impure acts. I glanced down at my arms, the stinging becoming more pronounced the more I thought of the scars tracing down my skin. I couldn't go in there. I couldn't face him. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't.