The Probability of Violet and Luke(49)

Still breathing erratically, she looks down at my hand on her knee then wrenches her leg away from me. “Don’t touch me.” She jumps up from the bed and grabs the slip from off the floor, tugging it over her head. Then she starts for the door, ready to walk out. I get up to grab her, even though I know it’s probably not a good idea to touch her when she’s in this state of mind. But like hell I’m letting her go out there in a piece of fabric that barely covers her ass and shows the outline of her nipples.

“Please calm down.” I pause as her eyes land on me, wild panic flowing from them. I put my hands up, letting her know I’m not going to touch her. “I think you’re having a panic attack.”

“No, I’m not.” Terror fills her expression as she looks from me to the door and then her gaze lands on the window. Without saying another word, she rushes to the window and throws it open, a hot breeze gusting in.

“God dammit, Violet, stop it.” I hurry to her, snagging her arm before she can climb out the window, panicking as I think of Amy. We’re on the second floor and even though she could be okay jumping out, I’m not going to take that risk. “If you get dressed then I’ll let you go out the door…. I just didn’t want you walking out dressed in that.”

“Let me go.” She jerks her arm away from me, glaring at me. “That isn’t what this is about.” Then she swings her legs out of the window, but I grab the back of her dress and pull her to me. She fights against me, wiggling her arms and legs, writhing her body as I wrap my arms around her and pull her back to me. “Let me go… let me go…” she gasps, pushing back against me.

I rock her back and forth and kiss her head. “No, not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s too much…” her voice cracks and even though I can’t see her face, I think she’s crying. “I need to turn it off…” she starts massaging her chest as if it’s tender “It hurts…” Another gasp, then another.

I hug her against me, trying to figure out what I just witnessed and how to calm her down. I’m not sure if she was actually going to jump or if she was just thinking about it, but Jesus, what if she was? What if things are so bad she’s ready to take pain over anything else?

“Please, let me go…” she begs between gasps, tearing my heart in half with the agony in her voice. “I just need to sit in the window for a moment… see it… and I’ll be okay…” She tries to suck air in her lungs, but the anxiety is too great and I can tell she’s not breathing very well.

She’s going to blackout and I know I need to calm her down somehow, but I honestly have no idea how. When I get riled up like this, I either drink, gamble recklessly, or start fights. I want none of that for her so instead I turn her around so she’s facing me. She’s too weak to really fight me, too focused on trying to breathe. Tears stain her green eyes and face, mascara running down her cheeks as she refuses to look me in the eye.

“Violet, look at me,” I say in a soft but steady voice I’m pretty sure I’ve never, ever used before. I cup her face with one hand, while supporting her weight in the other. When she shakes her head, more tears streaming down her face, I try again in the gentlest voice I can summon. “Baby, look at me.”

Her eyelids flutter as she tips her head up, the light reflecting in her glossy pupils. But she makes eye contact with me, which is surprisingly intense, considering how exhausted she looks.

“I don’t want to feel this way,” she whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I want to feel something else… not this… not all this pain… I don’t even know where it came from. One minute I was drunk and then you turned me down and I…” she trails off, sucking in a breath.

“I’m so sorry, Violet. For causing you pain.” God, kill me now. This is too much. Too unbearable, seeing her like this.

“Stop apologizing… It’s not even your fault… it’s your mom’s… it’s Preston’s for making me do all that stuff… It’s my own damn fault for not fighting him harder… for going back… for not just being able to let go of shit…” She starts to sob, drunken tears and I wonder if she’ll even be able to remember any of this in the morning. One thing’s for certain, I sure as hell will, especially the part about Preston. “If you’d just let me near the window….” She inhales, forcing oxygen into her lungs as she opens her eyes to look at me again. “Just let me calm myself down… this would all be better.” Her speech is a little slurred from the alcohol and it looks like she’s fighting exhaustion, probably from the panic attack. I’m guessing if she was more alert and sober then she’d not be openly admitting this to me.