Lockjaw (Joshler)

32. Territory

***Trigger warning for mentions of past abuse and a panic attack.***

Start the song. It's Dodged a Bullet by Greg Laswell.

Zack was the one who unlocked the front door to Tyler's house the next day. It was well into the afternoon by the time Tyler finally plucked up the courage to tell his little brother that he was ready to go back to his own house. Still, Tyler felt like he was going to throw up as he followed his brother inside, already noting the absence of Jenna's shoes and coat in the mud room. The house was eerily silent as the two men kicked their shoes off and wandered inside.

Perhaps the strangest thing about being home again was how normal it looked. Jenna had clearly straightened things up before she left, not leaving a throw pillow out of place. It looked like she genuinely hadn't taken anything, not even the blankets she'd brought home from Target in hoards to tuck into every free space in their living room.

Zack was looking more closely than Tyler was, the analytical part of his brain not letting a single detail go unnoticed as he continued to scope out the living room instead of following Tyler into the kitchen. Tyler stopped in the doorway, his chest aching as he looked around at the naked countertops and empty shelves. Of course she'd taken everything from the kitchen. That had been her favourite part of the house, and Tyler barely even knew how to cook. She'd left the microwave, but all other small appliances were gone.

It was on shaky legs that Tyler approached the cupboards, opening them up to find all the baking supplies missing. The plates, bowls, cups, and silverware had been left untouched, including the mugs Jenna had filled with coffee and Red Bull just a couple weeks ago. There was still food in the cupboards and fridge, and Tyler felt tears burn his eyes when he realized she'd prepped enough meals for him to last a couple weeks without her, stuffing the fridge and freezer full of plastic and metal containers with oven temperatures and cook times written out on them for Tyler's convenience. He closed the fridge immediately, feeling sick just at the thought of eating something she'd prepared.

"Ty, come here for a second," Zack called from the other room. "I have a question."

Tyler left the kitchen as quickly as he could, wanting to be as far away from Jenna's territory as possible. His brother was staring at a barren wall that had once been covered, and Tyler's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. How had he not noticed as soon as he'd walked in?

"Didn't this used to have pictures on it?" Zack asked him in much too professional a tone for how convinced Tyler was at the moment that his world was ending.

Tyler didn't answer, digging through drawers a bit too frantically before leaving the room in search of the missing photographs. He didn't look at the new bed his parents had left for him, didn't have time to feel sick at the thought of sleeping in that room alone, didn't have time to care that her side of the closet was empty. All he cared about was that she'd taken all of the photos that proved he'd ever even known her. Years of photographic evidence that she'd ever even existed were gone. Even the picture from his little sister's college graduation was gone because Jenna had been in it, so she'd claimed it as her own.

By the time Zack made it to the bedroom, Tyler was already knee-deep in a panic attack that no amount of psychological training could help him cope with. He was practically curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, as far away from that stupid new bed as possible, as he hyperventilated and sobbed against his knees. Within seconds, his brother was sitting next to him, not touching him or talking to him as he quickly typed something into his phone. It beeped after a moment, and he set it aside.

"Hey, Tatum says you need to focus on taking deep breaths and relaxing your muscles. It's gonna be okay. Just try to breathe. How can I help?" Zack asked, looking equal parts terrified and uncomfortable.