Page 26 of Never Gonna Lie (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

RAVEN

W aking up in a strange room messes with my brain for a minute. Where am I? I don’t recognize anything about the room I’m in. Did I get drunk with Mia last night and not remember? I sit up, a small gasp escaping my lips.

Shit! Did I go home with someone ?

But a vision of James on his knees in front of me has last night rushing back with the weight of a sledgehammer. I let out a small sob and throw myself back, staring at the ceiling as I will the forming tears to stop.

My hands begin shaking again, and my breathing becomes uneven.

Remembering the box breathing exercise my therapist recommended, I take deep breaths in and out.

Starting with my toes and working my way up, I clench and unclench each part of my body, trying to release the tension as I chant, You’re safe. There’s no threat .

After a few minutes, my body becomes less tense, and my breathing begins to settle back into a more normal rhythm .

I’d never been so fucking terrified in my life.

Having a knife to my throat wasn’t at the top of my bucket list, and it most certainly isn’t something I’d ever like to experience again.

The fact that it has something to do with my dad is worrying, though.

Did he upset the wrong people? Did a business deal go wrong, and now they’re taking it out on me to get to him?

Climbing out of bed, I decide to shower, needing to do something that isn’t lying in bed and crying all day.

I pad into the ensuite and turn the shower on.

I start removing my clothes when a strange sound causes me to jump.

My clothes forgotten, a wave of dizziness hits me as my breathing becomes quicker, faster, heavier.

My vision begins to tunnel, my palms instantly become sweaty, and my fingers start to tingle and shake.

I can't think clearly. It feels like everything is closing in on me. I know straight away I’m having a panic attack, one worse than when I woke up.

I sit down on the floor, remembering that in the past, my panic attacks have become so severe, I’ve passed out because I couldn’t breathe.

Now, it’s something I do automatically as soon as I feel one starting, whether I can calm myself down quickly or not.

I hold my head with both hands, pulling at my hair.

Five things I can see—shower, sink, toothbrushes, toilet, towels .

Four things I can touch—towels, sink, wall, door.

Three things I can hear—lawnmower, someone banging, water running.

Two things I can smell—shower gel, toothpaste.

One thing I can taste—bile.

I rock myself back and forth until I feel calmer. Sometimes it can only take a few minutes, sometimes it can take up to an hour.

Taking some more deep breaths and feeling more grounded, I stand up on shaky legs and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I gasp, bringing a hand up to my neck where the knife was held against me. It’s only a small mark, but the blood surrounding it makes it look worse.

I start manically pawing at my skin, desperate to get it off.

Even though it’s my blood, I don’t want it on me.

I rush to the waiting water and hang my head under the spray.

I don’t move in what feels like forever, I just stand there letting the hot water sluice down my body.

I don’t even bother toweling properly before the exhaustion of everything hits me, and I crawl under the covers, sobs wracking my body.