Prologue
Emerson
I hate social gatherings, crowded spaces, places where there is nowhere to escape. It makes the suffocating fear that I live with every day that much thicker. My palms are sweaty against the glass I’m holding that is about to slip out of my hands, but just like the fear, if I clutch onto it any tighter, it might shatter under the pressure. I might shatter under the pressure. This is a normal occurrence though, something that I deal with every time my father drags me to one of these events. No, that’s a lie. This kind of debilitating fear follows me everywhere I go. Fear has been part of my life for so long that I don’t know what it feels like to live without it. It’s a second skin...now.
The need to escape consumes me and I try to take another step backward, but I’m already as close to the wall as I can get without going through it. My back is pressed against the smooth brick in the corner of the large room filled with some of my father’s biggest clients and business partners. In such a big space, one would think you wouldn’t feel alone, but I’m always alone, in the mental and physical form. Like a statue, I stand watching the people around me, they laugh and talk, mingling, some of them drinking alcohol or eating from the buffet. They do it so casually, like it’s second nature.
Sometimes I wish I could be part of that, part of the world around me, instead, I choose to seclude myself. I stay on the outside, looking through the window, but never going in. It’s easier that way, then I don’t have to explain myself, or face the cruel looks, or comments.
Most people here ignore me, knowing better than to make conversation and that’s really what I’m hoping for wherever I go. So when I see this six-foot, brown-haired, broad-chested guy heading right toward me, I wish for the wall to swallow me up. I’m more than shocked and scared.
I’m actually frozen in place. If I could run, I would, but because I can’t, I just stand there, my feet rooted into the floor as he steps closer.
What the hell is he doing?
“Hello beautiful,” he greets, stopping less than a foot away from me. His scent wafts into my nose as I suck in an anxious breath. The unknown boy slurs, his green eyes are just a little more glassy than they should be, leading me to the conclusion that the beer in his hand must not be his first one.
I crane my neck back and stare up at him in disbelief. Besides him looking a little drunk, he is extremely handsome, his jaw sharp, his cheeks high, an all-American look that reminds me of some of the guys I went to high school with, and from the way he carries himself, he knows it too.
My lips pressed together in a firm line. Even if I wanted to say something I couldn’t. When he realizes I’m not going to say anything, he continues, “I’m guessing the reason you’re hiding over here in the corner of the room, is because you’re bored like me?” He pauses briefly, tilting his head, amusement glittering in his eyes. An ache starts to form in my chest at the look. He’s so close, his scent surrounding me, suffocating me.
He licks his pink lips and then asks, “Wanna get out of here?” His gaze briefly lowering and raking over my body. There’s a knot of fear rising in my throat.
My heart rate picks up and my hands start to shake. “No, thank you,” I say quietly, my voice trembling. Please just go away.
I look past him, and around the room. People are listening to someone who just started speaking up front, all their backs turned to us. Oh, no. I can feel the fear slithering up my body, threatening to overtake me.
“Seriously, let’s go…baby. I promise, you won’t regret it,” he coaxes, everything about him screams confident and cocky, I’m sure he is not used to hearing no. Then he lifts a hand, dragging his fingers over my cheekbone and I nearly drop my glass at his touch. Fear and panic spreading up and up, sinking into my muscles and my lungs. I start shaking, my throat closes up and my knees wobble, knocking together. Air refuses to fill my lungs.
I’m suffocating.
He’s too close, too interested in me. His large body crowds my personal space and all I can think of is that he wants to hurt me.
No, that he is going to hurt me.
“Are you alright?” he suddenly asks, concern apparent in his tone. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” he announces, grabbing my arm and dragging my stiff body toward the back exit. No, no, no!
I try to dig my heels into the ground and pull my arm out of his grasp, but he’s too strong, and easily overpowers me. This can’t be happening. He practically picks me up and carries me outside the rest of the way. I know I should scream, but nothing makes it past the huge knot in my throat.
By the time we’re outside in the back alley, I’m experiencing a full-blown panic attack. I can’t speak, can’t breathe, and then my vision starts to blur. I clutch a hand to my chest, trying to swallow it all down, but I can’t. There’s too much. All I can feel is my heart beating out of my chest.
“Shit, I’m sorry, okay? Please calm down, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The mystery man’s voice sounds close, but somehow far away too, like he’s speaking through a tunnel.
“Seriously, I’m sorry… fuck… shit, okay, take a deep breath,” he orders, obviously not realize that’s what I’m trying to do.
“You need to breathe,” he says again, his voice taking on a much calmer tone.
I feel his hands on me now, one on my upper arm and one on my lower back. His touch is gentle, not sexual in any way, but I can’t help but be scared of it, nonetheless. My body never reacts to touch well, and his is no different. I want him to stop. I need him to take his hands off of me, but I can’t get the words out.
Like a fish out of water, I gasp for air, then the whole situation gets even worse. My shaking knees finally give out and my body crumbles to dirty alley ground. I’m waiting for the pain to shoot through me as I land on the unforgiving asphalt, but instead a pair of strong arms encase me.
And instead of removing his hands like I had hoped, he does something far worse and engulfs me in his touch. My whole body finding its way pressed up against his. This is bad, horrible, terrible. Unable to do anything else, I bury face into his firm chest and let him wrap his strong arms around my torso, as if doing so will keep from shattering into a million pieces.
His fingers rub soothing circles over my back, and though I can’t make out exactly what he’s saying over the erratic beat of my heart in my ears, I know he’s whispering reassuring words in my ear. To any passersby, this would look like a simple lover’s embrace, even though it’s far from it. At the very least it won’t draw any attention.
After a few moments, I finally calm down enough to understand him again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Just breathe, no one is going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he continues saying and something in his voice makes it sound like a promise. Almost as if he is going to make certain of it.
This strange current ripples through me and for the first time in a long time, I believe what someone is telling me. I trust in his words, the words of this stranger I have never met. I don’t remember the last time I trusted anyone, and I don’t understand why I’m trusting him of all people right now, but something inside of me does. Something inside of me knows he is telling me the truth. That he won’t hurt me or let anyone else do so either.