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“I think…I’m having…a panic attack,” I gasp, and slide down to the floor. Ben crouches in front of me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying because Annoth is writhing inside me.

I do not want to hurt you,she says, and pulls away from me. If I could tell her not to go, I would. If I could say that she feels like the only real thing inside me right now, I would, but I can’t speak. I can’t see where she manifested. All I can see is Ben, his face full of worry, kneeling in front of me. His hands are rough, and they’re holding me steady as I start to hyperventilate and shake.

“Theo, I know it’s hard to talk right now, but you need to tell me if you take any medication for this,” he says urgently. I tryto answer, but my voice is stuck, trapped in my throat. All I can do is move my mouth like an idiot.

Ben mutters something in Spanish and presses his shoulder into my torso, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up like a sack in one smooth motion. Through the fog, I want to laugh, or put my hands on his back to feel the way his muscles work, but I do neither. I let him carry me to my bed, where he flops me down, then I roll and push onto my elbows, holding my face in my hands. He starts to pull my shoes off as I try to control my breathing.

“Don’t get too excited now,vaquero,” he says, his voice firm and loud, demanding my attention. “I’m stopping at the shoes, unless you need me to do more.”

I finally find my voice and mutter, “I can undress myself.”

He comes around the side of the bed and kneels so his face is level with mine. “Medication, Theo? Water? A joint? What do you need?”

I try to laugh, but it comes out strangled, so I point to the nightstand. “Klonopin. Just one.”

Ben opens the drawer and fishes around for a moment, then pulls out the bottle. “Hang on, I’ll get water.” When he comes back, he puts a hand on my shoulder. Automatically, I jerk away from him. He moves back, but sets the pill beside me and the water on the nightstand.

“I’ll go,” he says softly, but I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair, fighting the urge to rip it all out.

“Please don’t.” I want to crawl out of my skin. I want to scream, cry, or become so dense that I collapse into a black hole. But I also want him to stay, just not too close. As if he can read my mind, he sits on the end of the bed beside my feet.

“What can I do?” he asks. I finally open my eyes and lean forward, taking the pill between my lips and swallowing it down dry. I don’t have the wherewithal to reach for the water yet.

“Just…talk about something,” I tell him. “Something I don’t have to pay attention to.”

He chuckles, then begins speaking Spanish. I can’t understand him, but the cadence of his voice is perfect and I want him to keep talking forever. My body feels like it’s about to snap in half, and suddenly every single piece of fabric I’m wearing feels wrong. I let out a groan and pull my legs under me, then reach up and yank the t-shirt over my head, using it to cover my face as I unbutton my jeans with shaking hands. I’m covered in cold sweat, and my face is wet with tears, but I try to block everything else out and focus on Ben’s voice—low, steady, full of humor and warmth. I can feel it creeping into my veins. Or maybe that’s the Klonopin.

Slowly, I come back down to earth. One muscle at a time, my body relaxes. When it’s over though, I feel like I’ve run two miles through the sand. Everything hurts. I manage to pull myself back up onto my elbows and realize that I’m only wearing my boxers now, but I grab the water and drain the entire glass. When I turn around, Ben is looking at me, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t you dare apologize. It’s not something you can control, is it?”

I push my sweat soaked hair away from my face. “No, not really.”

“How long have you had them?”

“Since I was a kid, but…they got worse in high school, then again in college. More pressure. More shit to worry about.”

He nods sagely. “I get it. I’m sorry you deal with that.”

“Where is she?” I ask, suddenly remembering that Annoth left me when the panic attack started.

“Living room. She seemed upset.”

“She…she said she didn’t want to hurt me,” I tell him.

“You know,” Ben says, “if I was a gambling man, I’d say there’s a chance she cares about you, Theo.”

“Isn’t gambling a sin?” I ask, smiling in spite of howawful I feel.

Ben’s eyes flicker over my body. “I’ve done a lot of sinful things,” he says quietly. “Don’t see the point in stopping now.”

I let out a soft snort. “Well, leave me out of it, please…at least for tonight.” I flop back on the bed and cover my face with my hands. I still feel like crying, but it’s not so overwhelming now.

“Get some rest,” says Ben gently, standing up. “You handled things great tonight. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I could’ve been nicer to Ros. She wanted to talk about things and I just…cut her off.”