be able to walk normally again.
I was a cripple. I’d never play baseball or go for my morning jog. I’d be cursed with a limp for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wished the bullet had been fatal. Anything would be better than the pain. The torture of the unrelenting visions.
What was I thinking, trying to pull Kat into my misery? She had enough of her own to deal with. Just because I could forget when I was with her didn’t mean she deserved to be with me. The truth was . . . she deserved better. Always had.
She deserved a guy who would show her off. Hold her hand in town. Tell people she was his.
So instead of continuing to chase after her, I turned to the couch and sat. And I let her go.
The door slammed. The room spun. Colors blended. Blues became black. Browns became red, and I was spiraling. My heart raced, threatening to rip a hole through my chest. Sweat pooled in my hands and along my forehead. I gripped the couch, hoping if I was dying that it would just happen already.
Just get it over with. No long, dragged-out show. As long as it wasn’t my sister who found me. But as the colors bled to black, I realized I didn’t want to die.
Liz told me when she heard about the shooting that she prayed, even though she never did before. Because she needed something to hold onto. Mind racing, I forced myself to focus on how badly I wanted to live, praying for the first time in my life.
I didn’t have time to pray in the hallways that day. It all happened too fast. Maybe if I had, maybe if I’d found a single second to send up a silent prayer, things would’ve been different.
I could’ve saved her. When Liz told me about the crying woman in the waiting room, all the air in my lungs sucked out. Without another word I knew it was Nia’s mother. She would never see her daughter again. And it was my fault.
There was no air left in my lungs and with each breath I sucked in, my body shook. The idea of praying was gone. I didn’t deserve to live. I floated out of my body, hovering somewhere just outside of it. But I could still feel my heart thrashing against my chest.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I heard and then the slam of the door.
A shot grazed the shoulder of a guy in my class. He was flung back, tumbling to the ground. Blood pooled around him. I could feel the bile trying to rise in my throat. I pushed it down—I needed to survive.
Nia hid with me in the doorway, but the killer saw us. I pushed ahead of her, hoping to save her. Be the one the killer saw first. But . . . But . . .
“Josh!” My name broke through the fog in my head. Soft hands held my face. “Josh, snap out of it!” The fear in Kat’s voice brought me back.
I gasped for air, filling my lungs.
“Breathe. Just breathe. I’m right here.”
I took slow, calming breaths, letting them pass through every inch of me, allowing Kat’s cotton candy scent to consume me. My grip on the cushion loosened.
Her thumbs made slow strokes across my cheeks. “That’s right. Come back to me.”
I pressed my hands to hers, which were still resting on my face, interlocking our fingers. I looked up into her familiar blue eyes. A hint of fear still lingered in her gaze. I hated that I did that to her.
“It was a panic attack,” she said. “I get them too.”
Overrun with emotion, only wanting to relish the fact that I wasn’t dead, I pulled her into my arms. She linked her hands around my neck, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Needed her warmth pressed against me. I leaned forward into her embrace and swept her off her feet, positioning her on my good leg. Her legs fell in between mine, arms tightening around my neck.
“You scared me,” she whispered, hot against my ear.
“I scared me too. I’m sorry.”
She pulled back, running a hand through my hair. “Don’t be. But maybe it’s time you see someone. Just to talk. You need to talk.”
Talking scared me more. But her cold hands on my neck, the curves of her body pressed against
I was a cripple. I’d never play baseball or go for my morning jog. I’d be cursed with a limp for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wished the bullet had been fatal. Anything would be better than the pain. The torture of the unrelenting visions.
What was I thinking, trying to pull Kat into my misery? She had enough of her own to deal with. Just because I could forget when I was with her didn’t mean she deserved to be with me. The truth was . . . she deserved better. Always had.
She deserved a guy who would show her off. Hold her hand in town. Tell people she was his.
So instead of continuing to chase after her, I turned to the couch and sat. And I let her go.
The door slammed. The room spun. Colors blended. Blues became black. Browns became red, and I was spiraling. My heart raced, threatening to rip a hole through my chest. Sweat pooled in my hands and along my forehead. I gripped the couch, hoping if I was dying that it would just happen already.
Just get it over with. No long, dragged-out show. As long as it wasn’t my sister who found me. But as the colors bled to black, I realized I didn’t want to die.
Liz told me when she heard about the shooting that she prayed, even though she never did before. Because she needed something to hold onto. Mind racing, I forced myself to focus on how badly I wanted to live, praying for the first time in my life.
I didn’t have time to pray in the hallways that day. It all happened too fast. Maybe if I had, maybe if I’d found a single second to send up a silent prayer, things would’ve been different.
I could’ve saved her. When Liz told me about the crying woman in the waiting room, all the air in my lungs sucked out. Without another word I knew it was Nia’s mother. She would never see her daughter again. And it was my fault.
There was no air left in my lungs and with each breath I sucked in, my body shook. The idea of praying was gone. I didn’t deserve to live. I floated out of my body, hovering somewhere just outside of it. But I could still feel my heart thrashing against my chest.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I heard and then the slam of the door.
A shot grazed the shoulder of a guy in my class. He was flung back, tumbling to the ground. Blood pooled around him. I could feel the bile trying to rise in my throat. I pushed it down—I needed to survive.
Nia hid with me in the doorway, but the killer saw us. I pushed ahead of her, hoping to save her. Be the one the killer saw first. But . . . But . . .
“Josh!” My name broke through the fog in my head. Soft hands held my face. “Josh, snap out of it!” The fear in Kat’s voice brought me back.
I gasped for air, filling my lungs.
“Breathe. Just breathe. I’m right here.”
I took slow, calming breaths, letting them pass through every inch of me, allowing Kat’s cotton candy scent to consume me. My grip on the cushion loosened.
Her thumbs made slow strokes across my cheeks. “That’s right. Come back to me.”
I pressed my hands to hers, which were still resting on my face, interlocking our fingers. I looked up into her familiar blue eyes. A hint of fear still lingered in her gaze. I hated that I did that to her.
“It was a panic attack,” she said. “I get them too.”
Overrun with emotion, only wanting to relish the fact that I wasn’t dead, I pulled her into my arms. She linked her hands around my neck, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Needed her warmth pressed against me. I leaned forward into her embrace and swept her off her feet, positioning her on my good leg. Her legs fell in between mine, arms tightening around my neck.
“You scared me,” she whispered, hot against my ear.
“I scared me too. I’m sorry.”
She pulled back, running a hand through my hair. “Don’t be. But maybe it’s time you see someone. Just to talk. You need to talk.”
Talking scared me more. But her cold hands on my neck, the curves of her body pressed against
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