Page 71 of The Long Way Home
The command hits empty space. My ribs jam, each inhale a jagged shard. My head tilts, and the world shifts with it. The edges of the alley smear. I try to slow my heartbeat, but it doesn’t work. The harder I try, the tighter it gets. My head spins, and I’m somewhere between wanting to punch something and wanting to disappear.
I need help.
My phone is in my hand before I know it. There is only one name that makes sense. I press it.
“Hello?”
“Sunny,” I choke out when she answers.
“Rhett? What’s wrong?”
I can’t form the words. I suck in air that won’t fill my lungs.
“Hey—hey, slow down,” she says, sharp with worry. “What’s going on? You’re freaking me out, Rhett.” I still can’t get anything to come out of my mouth. “Rhett, where are you?”
I glance up and see the street sign blurry above me. “Alley on Higheth and Main,” I manage to whisper.
“Stay there. I’m coming.”
The line goes dead, but her voice lingers in my skull, echoing where it shouldn’t. I try to hold onto that, to the sound of her, while the rest of me malfunctions.
I press my palms to my eyes. The brick behind me is rough, reminding me I exist, but not enough to stop the tremor in my bones. My ribs feel hollow, like my heart is trying to claw its way out.
I can still smell her perfume. How did she…? After twenty years, after nothing, she shows up, and it’s like the air itself is betraying me. It makes no sense. Why now? Why me? Why this? Was I ever free, or just waiting for her to decide I could breathe again?
Part of me wants to scream at her, to shake her and demand an explanation, and another part wants to collapse into nothing, to curl up and let her presence crush me like it always has. She could have reached me years ago. She didn’t. And now she chooses to find me, just when I’m starting to feel like I might matter to myself.
Minutes stretch, slow and cruel. My breaths slice the air in shallow pulls. My hands are slick with sweat; my fingers dig into my palms like I can claw something solid out of the chaos.
Then I see a shadow at the alley’s mouth, and I hear footsteps running.
“Rhett?”
I look up. Sunny’s hair is flying loose, and her shoes are untied. Her shoes are never untied. She is scanning the alley until her eyes land on me, crouched against the wall. I watch as relief and panic collide on her face as she rushes over to me.
Her palms are trembling a little, but her voice isn’t. “You’re okay. I’m here. Look at me.”
I drag my eyes up to her. The edges of the world blur and tilt, but she comes into focus. Hair falling forward while her breaths remain uneven, eyes wide and sharp with worry.
“You came,” I let out, voice ragged.
“Of course I did. You called.”
Her thumbs brush against my jaw, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. My lungs start to catch again, shaky but there. Still, my heart is racing like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“What’s happening, Rhett?” she asks softly, scanning my face. “Are you hurt? Did something—”
“I—I don’t know.” I shake my head, but it only makes me dizzier. “I can’t— I can’t breathe. My chest—” I press my hand to it, as if that’ll loosen something. “I think it’s a panic attack. Maybe. I’ve never—” My voice cracks. “I’ve never felt like this before, Rach.”
Rachel exhales slowly, forcing herself to stay calm for the both of us. She nods, almost to herself. “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. You’re okay, Rhett. I’ve seen this before—Margo used to have panic attacks. I know what to do.”
She shifts closer, one hand steady on my shoulder, the other guiding mine away from my chest. “Listen to me,” she says gently, “You’re safe, alright? You’re not dying, even though Iknow it feels like it. You just need to breathe with me. Match me, okay? Do you think you can do that?”
She takes a slow breath in and waits for me to follow. I try, but the first one comes out jagged. She squeezes my hand.
“Again,” she murmurs. “In through your nose… out through your mouth. You can do it.”
I force another inhale. This one comes a little easier.
