Just Breathe

If I Could Save Just One, Chapter 4

Photo by Oliver Hihn on Unsplash

Jackal Bangs

This was a horrible idea. This day, this job, this conversation . . . I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have agreed to Taegan’s wild suggestion that I work for him. Why had that seemed like a good idea?

I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, feel the thud of my heart in my chest. I had staved off a panic attack so far, through careful breathing and a lot of concentration on preventing one, but I had been feeling the buildup to the other kind of attack for a couple of days now, and it had me even more on edge. The turn the conversation had taken had chills running up and down my spine. ‘Every life is precious and priceless,’ Avery said. . . . Since when? I could name a dozen people—no, a building full—who put a price on every life they touched. “Every child deserves to live.” Taegan talked like that. Taegan and Avery sounded like father and daughter. Not everyone would show up for an anonymous hotline caller, but Taegan seemed to live by what he said he believed. If I didn’t know better, meeting him could almost make me hope everyone was like that. But I did know better.

“Is something wrong, Jackal?” Trot asked.

I winced. “It’s just Jack. Please.”

He reddened. “Sorry, my dad said—“

“Don’t apologize. I told him my name, I guess I just wasn’t clear on the nickname.”

“How did you get a name like that, if you don’t mind me asking?” Avery put in, neatly deflecting the question that looked on the tip of Trot’s tongue . . . probably a follow-up to, ‘Is something wrong?’ since I hadn’t answered that.

“I don’t know. I remember my mom calling me that.” I stared at the floor. Where had that memory come from? I didn’t even remember her face, though sometimes, when I was really out of it, I thought she had come in to watch me at the . . .

“Can we—don’t we—don’t you have other things to do today, Trot?”

I knew it was abrupt, almost stammered, and hoped it didn’t sound too desperate, but I needed out of this conversation. Fast. My chest constricted with that irrational fear that read a room as a threat no matter how safe it was. My heart rate had kicked up another notch, sending a tingly warning through my limbs of how close I was to the other kind of attack. I’d give it another day, maybe two.

“Well, I do, but—“ Trot glanced at his sister, clearly intending to stay.

I wasn’t staying. “Do you have a . . .” I looked around, trying to find any escape. “Um, a bathroom?”

Avery pointed across the room wordlessly. I hadn’t even noticed there was a door there. I tried not to bolt for it, but I was still going fast enough that I stumbled as I entered. I turned around the door and pushed it closed with my bodyweight as I sank to the floor. Sitting there, the shakes I had been trying to keep a handle on ran through me, unsettling me as much as the pounding of my heart. I curled in on myself, hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound of my thoughts, my too-fast breathing, the pounding of my heart. They’re coming for me. They’ll find you and bring me back. You’re going to die without them. You’re going to die. I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from making any sound, and tried to refocus before I completely zoned out. I didn’t want to do that. Not on my first day, not ever. Breathe. You’re okay. Just breathe.

How long I sat there, I didn’t know. I expected every minute someone to come pounding on the door, wondering when I was coming out. The automatic light turned off, and I stood up too fast. I was not doing darkness right now. I grabbed at the sink to stabilize myself. I wasn’t as shaky as before; that was good. My breathing was evening out a little more, too, but my heart rate was still high. I splashed my face with cold water and stared at myself in the mirror. A view I hated. Trot and Avery hadn’t said anything, but fear stained my eyes with dark circles, standing out in sharp contrast to the ghostly white color of my face. No wonder Trot didn’t want to talk to me.

Still, I had a job to do. I buried my wet face in the towel hanging there and shook out my hands, hoping that physically loosening them up would help me relax. I was good. I could do this.

Avery and Trot were still talking at her little counter when I came out. Trot looked upset when he said we were heading back to his library because he had to finish his book before tomorrow, but I was too relieved to care if he was mad about it. I couldn’t meet their eyes yet, not even when he got up and went to the door of Avery’s basement apartment area. I moved to follow, but Avery’s voice stopped me.

“Jack,” she said, indicating with her hand that I should stay a moment. I hesitated. There was nothing to fear here, or shouldn't be. Not from her. It was just my stupid reactiveness, alarms sounding in my mind, no matter how I tried to shut them off.

She waited, giving me space to decide. She kept doing that. Her dad was like that, and Mrs. Samson. But she didn't know anything they did. Right? I shifted uneasily, but nodded.

She stepped closer, and I took a step back. She stopped, but kept her voice low, presumably to keep Terrance from overhearing. Idiot. That's why she was closing the distance.

“I don't know where you came from, Jack, but I can tell it was a dark place.” She didn't mince her words; just how I liked, clear-cut, easy to follow. Still, I didn't want to talk about this—not with her, not right now. I swallowed against the tension in my throat. You're fine, I reminded myself. I was fine. This was fine. I was safe.

She went on, “You’re not the first person my dad has helped get a new start. I know the signs.” For a second, I thought she’d touch me. Everyone seemed to think that was comforting, that all anyone like me wanted was their pity and a hug or a squeeze on the shoulder. They learned their error when my reflexes took over and I reacted, but I could never make myself warn them off ahead of time. It would save me a lot of grief if I could. Thankfully, Avery kept her hands to herself.

“Terrance doesn't know. He’s a good kid, but he doesn't realize what we’re up against, the magnitude of the fight. He’s been sheltered. Try to see past that—he has a different perspective on life, a brighter one, that we can all learn from.”

I shrugged. “He doesn't like me.”

“He actually gets to liking people pretty quickly one-on-one. It’s groups that make him nervous. If you try to be friends, it won’t take long.”

I bristled at her tone. “Don’t try to mother me, Miss Silver. I'm not a child.”

She rolled her eyes, but had the grace to blush. “I will if you call me ‘Miss Silver.’ It's just Avery—Ave if you’re short on time. And I'm sorry. I've been mothering since T. was born,” she finished with a wry smile.

That library was sounding nicer every second. Avery seemed to pick up on that and let me go. Terrance was waiting for me at the door, and when I managed to suggest the stairs instead of the elevator, he just shrugged and said he didn’t care.

If all went well, I’d make it through the rest of the day without making a bigger fool of myself than I already had.

Chapter End Credits

As always, like, share, and subscribe if you enjoyed this chapter! Comment what you think of it! I love to hear from my readers.

To support my writing, follow my socials, or learn more about my business, check out this handy-dandy Linktree with all the links to purchase my novella, Buy Me a Coffee, see my website and other blogs, etc. packed neatly into a single organized button right here:

This chapter is brought to you by: The Productive Procrastinator Who Should Probably Have Been Writing Something Else. Did you miss the previous chapter? Here it is!⤵︎

Until next time,

Blessings!

~Lexi