Morose ✔️

11

Going over everything in my head, I picked at my cuticles.

Though I was feeling better, and my sessions with Neil were going better and better, I still couldn't help but feel like I was making a mistake with Helix. Not so much because of the alleged murder everyone was so afraid of as of my own mind.

I had a tendency to overthink, to believe that when things were going good, there was only a matter of time before something came along to burn all my progress. If I was fragile before, then the events over the past months had only dipped said progress in gasoline a few times, just to make sure it would all be gone the next time I played with a lighter.

Neil told me to take deep breaths to center myself when I felt overwhelmed. He said it could help me stabilize my mind, and I could reach for the rational thoughts more easily. The first time he said that was a few years ago when I had trouble walking into a grocery store without feeling my heart in my mouth and stop breathing. When I tried it, it worked; so he took a note of it and told me again now that I was back seeking his council.

The TV was on in front of me, but I had turned off the sound. The moving images helped remind me I wasn't alone, but the sound was distracting. I had to center myself. I was centering myself.

I closed my eyes, feeling the soft, worn cushions of the couch beneath me as I pulled my legs up under me and took another deep breath. The air filled my body all the way down to my core, where I'd laid a hand, so I could make sure it moved as I breathed.

In through my nose.

Out through my mouth.

Again. And again. And again.

Until I could feel like I wasn't overwhelmed anymore.

Mom had left just a short hour ago, and I was a wreck after. I promised I would be careful, and I would be, but I wasn't entirely sure how that could work— especially if the rumors somehow were true, and the man I was dating was a murderer. I didn't believe it, but my useless mind ran through the different versions of the truth anyway, leaving me unable to function without a whole lot of deep breaths.

The first scenario my brain cooked up was that Helix James killed a man in cold blood, the Wolves paid off a judge to keep him out of prison and Clint would take Jesse's mom's life if he ever left their club. It seemed possible, yet so far out that I almost laughed at it.

The second was that it was all a misunderstanding, that Helix was at the wrong place at the wrong time and someone far more powerful than him made sure the rumors stuck and ruined his life. The last one was just innocence.

Different versions of every scenario happened at the speed of light in my head, all while I tried to breathe and slow down my thoughts. Sometimes I wondered why anxiety wasn't recognized as a disability— it's for sure an illness, but when an attack happened it was impossible to function.

My phone vibrated on the coffee table in front of me, disturbing my umpteenth deep breath, and I opened one eye to see what happened. It was a text from Helix, and as soon as I read his name another wave of intrusive thoughts hit me and I had no choice but to close my eye and continue my breathing exercises.

In through my nose.

Out through my mouth.

Two more, and I leaned forward to pick up my phone and look at the text.

"Hey, there's a small gathering at the clubhouse tonight. Wanna come over?"

I scrunched my nose and bit my lip, two unnecessary nervous movements that I did because my cuticles weren't available.