Retrocognition

37 | abnormal

I gasp as I jolt up and into a sitting position.

My chest heaves as I force myself to inhale, the action causing a physical ache to pass through my body. I couldn't breathe, I suddenly remember. There were hands wrapped tightly around my throat, robbing me of oxygen. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe, and then I died.

I died.

"Blythe!" The voice is Jacob's, sounding as frantic as I feel within. "Blythe, oh my God."

I shake my head to gesture that I can't speak. I inhale deeply, the air rushing through my lungs sweeter than anything I have ever tasted before. I breathe like I have just run an entire marathon, realizing how taken for granted every breath I've ever exhaled before has been up until now.

Jacob grasps my shoulders tightly, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are as wide as saucers, full of fear and concern.

"What happened?" I manage to question. My voice is shaky, giving away the panic I am left feeling.

"You fainted," Jacob tells me. He is visibly upset, his worry no doubt brought on by my abnormal behavior. "Again. Is that normal, Blythe? Do you have some sort of . . . condition?"

I shake my head once more, trying to make sense of my bearings and regain my composure. "No," I admit weakly. "I've never fainted before in my life."

Jacob's concern deepens; it is etched onto every line of his face, filling his gaze to the brim. "Have you . . . taken anything? I'm starting to worry about you, Blythe . . . This isn't normal. I know recreational drug use is common in college, but if you've—"

"I'm not on anything, Jacob!" I don't know where my outburst comes from. His accusations are overwhelming to me at the moment. My mind swims between reality and my delusions. I remember dying. That can't be normal. Nor can it be real, as I'm obviously alive. What had happened? Where had that vision come from? Why had it felt so authentic . . . and familiar?

"Okay," Jacob backs off, giving me space to breathe. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . This is the third time you've blacked out with me, Blythe. And I'm worried."

"Me too," I convey my own anxiety, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to calm myself down. I am tempted to tell Jacob about the hallucination I recall experiencing while I'd been unconscious, though something makes me bite my tongue. He asked me if I was using substances. He'd just think I'm crazy. I find it best to keep the vision to myself, no matter how much it had traumatized me, ignoring how badly I am aching to share what I had lived through out of fear and confusion.

"Maybe you should talk to someone, Blythe," Jacob suggests in a gentle tone. "I think you need help. This could be caused by a bigger issue. You should see a doctor."

I nod. Jacob has a point. I don't know what could possibly be causing these blackouts I have recently undergone. It seems like a pretty big medical issue. However, the vision I'd experienced makes me wonder if I should keep this situation to myself altogether. Maybe it'd be best to just pretend it never happened in the hopes that I'll never have to experience it again.

"Have you been sleeping?" Jacob questions. "I've heard of people fainting from a lack of sleep."

"Maybe not as much as I should," I mumble weakly. "I'm fine. I just needed a minute. Sorry for scaring you."

"Blythe," Jacob chides with a stern glance. "You should be taking this more seriously."

"I'm fine," I argue. "I promise."

"No, you're not." Jacob raises his voice slightly, which startles me. "Promise me you'll talk to someone. I'm deadass, Blythe."

"I'll think about it," I assure him. "I think I should go."

"You just passed out!" Jacob cries. I can't tell if he's angry or overly concerned. His expression appears almost crazed, as his features are pinched and his eyes are much too wide. "You don't need to be going anywhere!"

"Calm down," I tell Jacob. Something about his expression is unsettling. He looks almost enraged, with veins bulging in his neck and a wild gleam dancing in his eyes.

"I thought I . . . hurt you," Jacob admits faintly. "My hand had been around your neck when you . . . I thought it was my fault. I'm sorry I'm freaked. I just—I—" Jacob shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. He leans over as he inhales a rattled breath, massaging his temples.

I scoot closer to him slowly, rubbing a hand over his back soothingly. "Hey," I say gently. "It wasn't your fault, okay? We know this has happened before. I'm not sure why. I'm just as confused as you are about all of this. But nothing was your fault. I'm fine. It's okay."

Jacob nods, though he doesn't look up to meet my gaze. He hides his face behind his hands, elbows resting atop his kneecaps. I sense that he doesn't believe my words; that he isn't convinced he isn't to blame in this situation.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbles. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"You were just scared. I understand."

Jacob gazes up at me, his cheeks stained red and face flushed. His eyes are bloodshot, seemingly brought on by an effort to hold back tears. He reaches for me, and I realize his touch is not so much for my comfort as it is his own. I lean back on his mattress, allowing Jacob to cradle his head into the crook of my neck. He wraps an arm around my figure, holding onto me tightly as I play with his hair soothingly.

Closing my eyes, I pay close attention to the rise and fall of my chest as I remember what it had felt like to not be able to breathe at all.