She fell to her knees as the door swung open, and she knew she’d never get up again. Her fingers unclamped from the knob and she slumped against the back of the door, shutting it in the process.
Harper tried to gulp in air through her closing throat and dragged shaking hands through her hair, tugging at the roots, trying to come back from the edge of anxiety. It was useless. The monster had already pushed her off the cliff and was now cutting her open with a scalpel. It laughed at the chaos in her body, dumping adrenaline on her fragile nerves.
Cold sweat turned the silk of her dress into a heavy rope that clung around her body, suffocating her. A wave of nausea lurched her forward onto her hands and knees, and she dry heaved over the floor.
She dragged herself to the bathtub, twisting to rest her back against it. Her head lolled forward between her knees while blood pumped viciously through her body. The monster draped a heavy, pulsing blanket over her senses, and she felt herself begin to fade.
Somewhere, far away, there was a knock on a door. “Harper?” a muffled voice called, the sound traveling to her underwater.
The monster dragged its long, jagged nails down her spine, making her teeth rattle.
“Harper, I’m coming in.”
She tried to lift her head, but the monster gripped the back of her skull, pushing it down.
“Shit. Harper, look at me.”
Strong, familiar hands shooed the monster’s claws away. A touch she’d come to recognize gripped her shoulders. Dan.
“Look at me. Please.”
Warm hands cupped her cheeks, moving her face to look up at him. His green eyes bore into her. Steady. Unblinking. An anchor.
“You have to breathe.”
Harper obeyed, sucking in a deep breath that got stuck at the top of her throat, the pressure issuing another wave of panic.
“Breathe, Harper.”
Slowly, the oxygen crawled through her limbs, tickled in her fingers. She tilted her head back further and gulped at the air ferociously.
She was breathing again.
It was raspy and exhausting, but air was flowing in, and air was flowing out. Her lips felt swollen and tingly, and her skin hummed.
“That’s good. Deep breaths. I’m here.”
From somewhere outside of her body, she felt her jellied arms reach out blindly for him, clutching at his suit jacket. She focused on the texture of the material, trying to ground herself like therapists had taught her as a child.
It feels thick. It feels cool. I can feel the different threads weaved together.
The whooshing of blood in her ears was dialed down to a muffled thrum. The monster still lurked behind her, but it wouldn’t dare touch her now that Dan was there.
Dan shifted to pull away and Harper cried out, clinging to him, clawing at him.
He wrapped his arms around her with just enough weight to make her feel safe. Harper closed her eyes.
“I’m not leaving. Here, give me your hand.” Dan traced down her arms and entwined his fingers with hers. The feeling of skin against skin sent a soothing wave of calm up her arm. He shifted away again, but he didn’t let go.
Harper heard the opening of a few drawers and the running of water before he knelt back in front of her.
“I think this will help,” Dan said, letting go of her hand and pushing the bangs off her forehead.
Harper let out a whimper of relief as he pressed a cool washcloth against her skin, trailing it down her temple and across her cheek. He started whispering sweet words. Love words. He told her she was brave. That she was strong. That he had her, and he wasn’t letting go.
With each stroke of the wet cloth, the monster faded away. Weak relief bloomed slowly in her chest.
After a while, Dan set the cloth down and ran his hands through her hair, massaging her scalp in a way that made her sigh in relief. Harper didn’t know how long they sat like that, but eventually she felt her body’s ownership return to her—exhausted and overused, but hers.
She finally opened her eyes and looked at Dan.
He was crouched in front of her, his body tense. His hands left her hair, traveling down her arms to rest on her thighs. Worry tightened the skin of his face, and his jaw sharpened with the clench of his teeth as his eyes scoured across her face. She brought a shaky hand to rest on his cheek and smoothed the wrinkles between his eyebrows with her thumb.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m embarrassed you saw me like that…”
Emotion flashed in his eyes and his grip tightened on her thighs.
“Don’t you dare apologize. All I care about is if you’re okay.” His voice was gravelly and strong, and Harper wanted to melt into its sound. She nodded weakly.