by Jordan Marie
“Crazy woman. Are you trying to get yourself killed? There’s no way you can see those steps with your hands full. What happened to that damned Pastor? I thought he helped you with this shit?” Michael is grumbling under his breath, and he’s saying more than he’s ever said to me in one long sentence. Which might be good, but I can’t concentrate on it.
I feel a cold, clammy sweat pop out covering my body. I hear the blood rushing in my ears. Everything I look at begins dancing, zooming in and out—distorted. I do my best to take air into my lungs, but it doesn’t work. The pressure is so intense it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest. I can feel my fingers tingle and my knees go weak. I’m breathing raggedly at best, doing everything I can to fight through the fear and snap out of it. It’s a losing battle though. This panic attack is coming hard and strong, and I hate it. I hate it almost as much as I hate myself.
Michael is gathering the packages I have on the table, I want to find him. Maybe if I could find him it would help to center me and keep me from going under too deep. But I can’t, the blinding whiteness in my vision takes over, changing everything to a weird gray hue with no colors. I’m starting to shake uncontrollably, the carefully constructed tower of packages I’m holding, that comes up to just under my neck, begin rattling. Which causes every eye in the room to turn to me.
“Are you okay, honey?” a feminine tone questions, and maybe her voice is kind, I think it is, but I can’t be sure over the way the blood is rushing through me and the loud pounding of my heart.
That seems to be all my ears can hear. I start backing away. If I can get through the living room and out the front door, maybe I can get away. Maybe I can get control. It was a mistake letting Michael in. He was nice, but I just can’t be around people. Not long-term, even though I’m getting better, I’m just too damaged…too dirty. The desserts I’m holding fall to the floor with a crash. I shake my head back and forth, backing up faster. It feels like I might just pass out.
“Hayden?” I hear Michael, his voice laced with concern.
I stumble backwards, closing my eyes for a minute, trying to block everything out. I feel a hand touch me and I scream. It’s a scream filled with nothing but complete and utter terror.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ.”
“What’s wrong with her, Brother?” The men are asking, I don’t register it, not really.
In fact, I think I’m still screaming. I’ve hit the wall in the hallway, and Michael is here in front of me, putting a hand on each of my shoulders.
I stop screaming. Now I yell, “Don’t touch me!”
“Hayden, sweetheart,” Michael says, but even though it’s his voice, it’s not his face I see. It’s someone else’s. Someone else’s entirely.
“Don’t touch me!” I scream louder, pushing against the wall, only wanting to get away from the demon I see in front of me. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”
“What is going on in here?!” I hear just before I hit the ground.
“Oh God, not again. Please God, not again. Please…please…please…” I cry, rocking back and forth, sobs racking my body as misery fills the very air around me. “Please…” I cry brokenly. “Oh God…please.”
37
Beast
“Beast, come away from her, honey, you’re making her worse,” Dani says, pulling on my arm. I’m on the floor trying to get Hayden to come into my arms but she just keeps pushing harder against the wall each time I try.
“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Diesel barks.
“Get away from her! Everyone get out of the house,” Pastor Sturgill commands, and he’s fucking out of his mind if he thinks I’ll agree to that.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask this time, directing my words to the Pastor. It’s all I can do to keep my words even and quiet. That’s the best I can do even if they vibrate with anger. I don’t want them to scare Hayden further. If that’s even possible.
“Having all of you in here must have triggered one of her panic attacks. You all need to leave. It’s the only thing that will help her right now,” he advises. He’s probably right. He apparently has had experience with these episodes before, and I don’t like that he’s the one that dealt with them. I made up my mind yesterday that Maggie and Hayden were my responsibility. Pastor Sturgill is dreaming if he thinks I’m leaving Hayden in his hands now.
“Everyone leave,” I order the same tone of voice.
“Beast, honey,” I hear Dani. I pull my eyes away from Hayden and look at her.
“I got this,” I tell her. She stares at me a minute then grabs Crusher’s arm to leave. I know Pastor Sturgill is there, but I’m not wasting my breath on him. I need to get to Hayden before she hurts herself or Maggie.
Hayden’s entire body is shaking, tears are pouring down her body and she’s breathing so hard that each new intake of breath is a large heaving shudder. I’ve had zero experience with this, but I’ve dealt with men on the battlefield who are shell-shocked. Men who have seen too much—so much it breaks something inside of them. I figure that is part of what’s going on with Hayden. So, I go with my instincts.
“You need to leave. I can get her to calm down,” the Pastor says, starting to walk around me.
“All due respect, Pastor, but if you get one step closer, I will physically throw you out. Hayden and I have this, don’t we, honey?” I both warn and question, directing my words at Hayden and ignoring the annoying preacher. I inch slowly toward her, not much and so slowly and carefully that I couldn’t have moved much more than an inch. Hayden doesn’t scream, or try to push back into the wall again however, so I’m satisfied. I do it twice more. The last time I see her body jerk, so I stop.
“Give me your hand, Hayden,” I tell her gruffly, wishing I had a soft voice that wasn’t riddled with darkness. I just hope she feels connected with me enough that it helps. She called me her friend, hopefully that’s enough. I reach my hand out, instinctively giving it to her palm down. I can’t help the scars or the darkness of my hand, but every time I’m with Hayden and something happens she reaches for my hand. Sure, none of those things have been bad, but I’m hoping it still helps. If ever a woman needed something to hold onto right now, it’s Hayden and for some reason I don’t want to question, I’d rather it be me than the preacher who is standing by the door, yet still refusing to leave.
“Hayden, come on now. You don’t want to scare Maggie, do you? Give me your hand,” I tell her, and I’m holding my breath as her body jerks against the wall.
Her eyes, almost glassy, look at my hand. I’m hoping that means she’s hearing me. She’s crawled into a shell, and I desperately need her to come out of it…to come to me. “You hear me, don’t you? You don’t want Maggie to be scared. Hold onto my hand. I’ll protect you, sweetheart. I’ll protect both of you,” I vow to her. I’d already decided it on my own, but now I give her that promise. I ignore the way the words make my heartrate accelerate. It’s only because I’m afraid I can’t reach her. That’s all it is.
I am almost about to let the Pastor try. She’s been staring at my hand for what feels like an hour. In reality, it’s probably been more like five minutes. That feels like five minutes too long…and then…something happens. I watch, almost disbelieving, as she takes a hand that was clenched tightly into her chest and slowly lowers it.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Hold onto me. You’re not alone now,” I reassure her, feeling elation glide through my body as her small, trembling arm drops away from her body centimeter by centimeter, until her hand is close to mine. It’s all I can do not to grab it. I can’t. Hayden has to be in charge.
Whatever has happened to her in the past, it was major and she had no control. It broke her and robbed her of something vital…something precious. That’s about all I understand right now. I will know more. Her hand finally touches mine, trembling so hard it jars my hand. I hold my breath as even slower her fingers fan out to encircle my hand. Then a miracle happens. Hayden’s thumb hits
the deepest groove on my hand the one that runs from the knuckle to the wrist and begins brushing over it, following the scar one way and then backtracking the other. Over and over she does that—three, four…five times. With each time though, I notice her eyes slowly thaw. Her breathing, though still ragged doesn’t wrack her whole body, making it quake.
I inch closer to her, keeping my hand still. “That’s it, Beauty. Come back to me,” I whisper, my voice cracking, giving her the nickname without realizing it.
“Mi…Mi…Michael?” she stutters, and finally, I breathe normal. She’s back.
I keep our hands joined. It might be my imagination, but I think the scar pattern on my hand is helping to keep her calm. Yet, as best as I can with one arm. I pull her into my lap, holding her close. She instantly curls into me, trusting me. I keep our joined hands between us and just hold her. I let the fingers on my other hand hold onto her shoulder and rest my chin on top of her head. She’s burrowed into my body, but with each passing minute the shudders ease.
“I got you, sweetheart. Nothing will get to you while I’m here. I promise,” I tell her, going with my instinct and giving her the words I think will mean the most.
“Don’t leave,” she whispers, her hand tightening on mine.
“I’m not, Beauty. I’m not going anywhere,” I promise her, but I find myself looking over at the Pastor while I say it. Maybe because he tried to get me to leave, I couldn’t say. He studies me for a minute, then walks out the door, leaving me alone with Hayden. “I’m not going anywhere,” I vow once more, looking down at our joined hands and watching her thumb sweep against my scars. “I’m right here for you,” I tell her, “I’m right here.”
God help me…Hayden’s gotten inside of me…
38
Hayden
I made a fool of myself…in front of Michael’s friends. I can’t think about that right now. I refuse to let myself. I choose to concentrate on the feel of Michael’s arms around me. His hand is underneath mine and that’s my lifeline. I hold onto his hand tightly, my thumb instinctively finding the deepest scar and brushing against it. He’s kissing the top of my head like he would a small child. It’s nice. It feels safe and that’s a miracle for me. I’ve never had safe…never. Every so often, he gives me those words—promises that he will keep me safe, and for the first time in my life, I believe them. Michael’s scent wraps around me, further penetrating the haze of fear I had locked myself inside of. It’s a stark combination of musty leather and aftershave mixed in with the smell of pine trees after a rain. My mind automatically breathes it in because I love the way it smells outside after rain. As if everything is clean and ready to begin again. I’ve always wished I could do that. Let the rain wash away the past and feel…clean.
“You better, sweetheart?” he asks, and I should tell him yes, because I am.
I find myself reluctant though, because I don’t want him to let me go, and I really don’t want to feel the embarrassment of my lost control just yet. So, I don’t answer verbally. Instead, I bring his hand to my stomach where Maggie is moving. I hold his hand over my daughter, part in gratitude, and partly because I’ve never got to share this with anyone else. Maggie pushes against his hand, my stomach hardening with her move. I can’t be sure, but I like to think her little butt is moving and pushing against my hand. It’s different than a kick. It feels like she’s hugging me.
“She’s worried about her Momma,” Michael says, his voice a little stronger, but it cracks. He clears his throat, and I know my time with him is getting shorter. He’ll want to go out to his friends. I can’t face them. I can’t believe I lost control like that in front of Michael’s friends. Yet, instead of getting mad, he’s holding me, pledging to keep me safe. How different would my life have been if I had Michael in my life years ago?
“Thank you,” I tell him, but I stop there, because I’m not sure how to list all the things I’m thankful for. “You should go out where your friends are,” I tell him, reluctantly, giving him an opening, but still not letting go of his hand. I’m not sure I can yet.
“You need to rest. You and Maggie,” he tells me, and he somehow manages to get up off of the floor, all while holding me. He takes our joined hands and uses them to help hold me, but he doesn’t take his hand away, or break the way I’m holding it, and I’m glad.
I let him carry me like a small child into the bedroom and lay me down there, all without saying a word. I don’t get scared when he lays down with me, immediately holding my hand again and curving his body so he’s spooned into my back, our joined hands falling over my stomach.
“Close your eyes. I’ll stay for a little longer and then go talk to everyone. I won’t be far away, even then. All you have to do is call for me and I’ll be here, Hayden. I promise,” he tells me, and it might be weak of me, but for once I don’t mind being weak.
I close my eyes and concentrate on the feel of Michael surrounding me, his hand in mine and the sound of his breathing. Then I let myself fall asleep feeling safer than I have ever felt in my life.
39
Beast
I lay here until I’m sure Hayden is sleeping. The temptation to stay with her remains, but I know Dani and the others will still be out there. I force myself to get up and leave Hayden, and I can’t even pretend not to miss the way it felt to hold her against my body. I’m fucking up royally here. I just don’t know how to stop it. Fuck, I even find myself kissing the top of her head again, before I pull the covers over her body.
Once I get outside, I take a deep breath of air, hoping the clean air will return my rational thinking and somehow detach me from this invisible chain that seems to link me to Hayden. It doesn’t.
“What the hell was that?” Crusher asks as soon as I get outside. His hand is shaking as he rakes it through is hair. He’s holding Dani close, and she’s still crying, her head on his chest. She just has silent tears running down her face, but somehow that seems sadder, because they’re tears of understanding and knowing Dani’s history, the fact that she can feel that kinship with Hayden terrifies me.
“That’s a panic attack,” Dani whispers a little later. “A bad one. The kind that drove me to self-medicate,” she continues. “What the hell happened to her, Beast?” she asks, and I don’t know what to say to that, because I have no idea. I never even had a clue. If she had this kind of problem, wouldn’t I have been able to see it clearer before now? How come she didn’t react this violently when I was at her house the other night? I can’t answer Dani, because all I seem to have are questions and no fucking answers.
“The best thing we can do for Hayden right now is to leave her alone for a little while.”
“The last thing she needs to be is left alone. What if that happens again?” I growl, ready to march back inside already.
“You’re wrong. Hayden does much better on her own. She limits her interaction with others. She would probably do better with medication, but—”
“She can’t take medication while pregnant,” Dani finishes and the Pastor nods his head in agreement.
“What the hell happened to her that she has episodes like that?” Diesel asks, and I want to laugh. That wasn’t a fucking episode. Whatever Hayden had in there was pure Hell.
“I don’t know for sure. I can only tell you from the shape she was in when we found her, it was bad. She was beaten, and bleeding heavily. They didn’t think her or the child were going to make it,” the Pastor says, and it feels like a damn hand has a death grip on my heart.
“They beat her while she was pregnant?” Diesel roars, echoing thoughts that I can’t verbalize. I’m having trouble just breathing.
“Charlie, from the diner, found her lying in her own blood along the side of the road. Someone had dumped her out like the trash. She managed to get her into her car and took her to the hospital. That’s when I first met them both. I was the Chaplin on call there. We tried to find her next of kin. Hayden mentioned a brother. He never showed, but there were some thing
s delivered to the hospital. Including a deed to this place.”
“Pistol…” I hear Diesel mutter under his breath.
“I think that Hayden must have been mixed up with a gang in the city, but whoever her brother is he somehow got word out though that she was under his protection. They’ve left her alone.”
“I guess the sorry sack of shit did one thing right before he died.”
“He’s dead?” the Pastor asks, and I nod my head yes, distractedly. My eyes go back to the house, thinking about the woman inside and wondering what kind of torture she must have lived through.
“Will she be okay?” Crusher asks, and everyone else is talking and the Pastor is answering him, but all I can do is concentrate on the house and picture Hayden scared in her bed alone.
She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it. I won’t fail this time.
40
Hayden
It’s that sick feeling you get when you have made a fool of yourself. That’s what is sitting inside of me. I hear movement in the kitchen. I don’t fear it though. I know it’s Michael. He said he would be here when I woke up, and I don’t doubt his words for a second. With my history you think I would, but I don’t. Not when it comes to Michael.