Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)(69)

Since she asked nicely and my heart surged like a heart attack … “Sure.”

Mrs. Collins dimmed the lights while I lay down on the uncomfortable, plastic-covered bed. A nice thick comforter lay at the end and a fluffy pillow at the head. I cocked an eyebrow.

“I wanted you to be comfortable.”

A couple of candles sat on the counter next to the sink. “Are you going to light candles?”

“I was.” She sighed. “But I’m not feeling very candlish right now. Did you tell your father that we could be a while? I don’t want him upset with me when you don’t come home at your normal time.”

Now I sighed. “Yes. Mr. Overbearing is fully aware and I’m under direct orders to call him the moment I’m done.”

She chuckled. “Me, too. Mr. Overbearing, hmmm? It definitely has a ring.” Mrs. Collins lost her playful tone as she spoke to Dr. Reed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Grabbing the comforter and fluffing the pillow, I snuggled down like a bear preparing for hibernation. If I was really going to do this, I might as well be warm.

Dr. Reed started off with some breathing and meditative exercises. After a while, my mind began to wander and his voice became this soothing, magnetic sound. “Tell me when you last felt safe, Echo. Really, really safe.”

“Noah makes me feel safe.”

I followed the smooth and reassuring voice as I imagined Noah’s warm, strong body and sweet musky scent enveloping me in his safe protective bubble.

“Dig deep, Echo. Very, very deep.” He continued to calmly speak. I burrowed deeper into the covers and listened to his voice prod my mind to discover that one time I felt safe. Memories flipped like a slide show until I found one that warmed my heart.

“Aires made me feel safe.” He hid with me in the closet several times when my mother suffered from a particularly energized manic episode. By the time Aires found me, my father had taken care of my mother, but I refused to leave the closet. He’d stay with me and read stories by flashlight until I fell asleep.

“Ashley.” Funny, my voice sounded like my own and the world seemed far away. As a child, the sight of Ashley meant games, warm baths and dinners, normal bedtime stories and nighttime songs.

“Daddy.” My protector. My savior. He convinced my mother to take her medication and she did. For him. She loved him. He made us a family and during those dark moments when my mother’s illness threatened to rip us apart, he held me. Like in the hospital, when I couldn’t sleep, terrified of the first wave of nightmares, he lay with me in bed and held me, whispering over and over again how much he loved me.

The scene in my mind altered. I was safe. Somehow I knew that, but this … something was off … wrong …

Moonlight bathed my mother’s living room, reflecting off thousands of pieces of glass scattering the floor.

Warm liquid trickled down my arms and I fought to breathe through the sobs of pain. Burning pain. Tearing pain. Throbbing pain. Every muscle screamed and my throat ran raw with each sensation. Struggling to keep upright on my hands and knees, I compelled myself forward. I couldn’t let my eyes close. I couldn’t.

But my eyelids were heavy and so were my muscles. I could rest. For a few seconds. Yes, I could rest.

I gave in to the weight of my body, collapsing onto the glass-filled serenity of the floor. If I didn’t move, the glass could no longer shred me to pieces. I breathed with the slow steady rhythm of my heart and let my mind wander to other thoughts beyond pain and blood. Sleep. Yes. I needed sleep.

No! I forced my eyes open and blinked rapidly to focus. Edges of the clear glass now shone with red—blood. My blood.

“Daddy!” I whispered. Daddy should be here by now. I sent out a plea in my head, begging him to somehow hear me and know….

I focused on the door, but there was no way I could make it. Not now. My legs were dead to me—no control, no movement.

My arms. I could still move my arms, but the pain. “Oh, God!” The pain.

“I’m so sorry, Echo. I never should have let you stand up, but the pain will be over soon.” Ignoring the glass, my mother lay down beside me, settling her head on the floor inches from mine. Her wide, glazed-over eyes held a hint of concern.

“Don’t cry.” Her callused fingers wiped the tears off my face. “We’ll be with Aires soon and then there will be no more pain or sadness. Only joy and happiness and we’ll be able to paint— you and I—and Aires will be able to tinker with as many cars as he wants.”

I hardly recognized my own voice, hoarse and shaky. “I don’t want to die, Momma. Please, don’t let me die.”

“Shhh,” she cooed. “Don’t think of it as dying.” She yawned and her eyelids fluttered. “We’re going to sleep and when we wake, we’ll be with your brother again.”

She smiled and I sobbed, “Oh, God, Daddy.”

My stomach sank. I’d never see my dad again. My father, who was supposed to pick me up, my father, who I prayed over and over again would walk through that door as promised. Please, Daddy, please. I need you.

“I’ll tell you a story, just like I did when you were a baby. Cassandra had a beautiful daughter named Andromeda….”

I opened my eyes and blinked several times. Mrs. Collins stood in the door frame and Dr. Reed sat in the chair next to the sickbed. I kicked off the comforter. Sweat dripped down the side of my face. Blood hammered my head and my heart thrashed in the same rhythm. My skin stung as I peeled myself off the bed and my body felt light after experiencing the heaviness of the memory.