Whisper (Whisper #1)(14)

I wish he would leave again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he remains standing and waits while I eat. I force myself to act indifferent, even if his continued presence is ruining the nicest meal I’ve had in years.

When I’m finished, Ward asks if I’d like any more. I feel so content, being both full and warm, so while I’m tempted by his offer, I know better than to push it. The last thing I need is to bring it all back up over his shaggy white throw rug.

When I don’t respond, he sighs again — irritated this time — and leaves the room with my empty bowl in hand, promising he’ll be right back.

Upon his return, I watch apprehensively as he walks over to me. When he stretches his arms out, I recoil. It’s an automatic response, honed by years of self-preservation. Ward’s eyes narrow a fraction, and a muscle tenses in his cheek, but his anger isn’t directed at me.

“I won’t hurt you, Chip. You know that, right?”

My only response is to turn my face away. He can read from that whatever he wants.

“Look,” he says, “I’m guessing you need to use the bathroom, and I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to walk there on your own. Prove me wrong if you can, but otherwise you’re going to have to let me help you. Either that or I call my aunt. It’s up to you.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. I do need to use a bathroom. And Ward’s medic aunt is right about me needing to rest. I only wish I wasn’t being forced to sleep here, use the bathroom here, get help here. Much as I’d prefer to be cared for by his unknown aunt, I don’t want to take up any more of her time or attention.

I grit my teeth and reach out a shaky hand, wordlessly giving him my answer.

He laces our fingers together without a word and pulls me to my feet. When I sway, he unlocks our hands and circles his arm around my waist, drawing me flush against his body. I have enough energy to feel mortified by my new position, but there’s little I can do about it. It’s a struggle to keep my legs from buckling, and I end up having to lean most of my weight against him.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

As if I’m not acutely aware of this fact.

“Let’s do this quickly and get you back into bed.”

Quickly isn’t fast enough, but I nod anyway and let him guide me down a short hallway and into a tastefully decorated bathroom.

“Do you need me to stay?”

My eyes snap up to his face. He looks one hundred percent serious and not uncomfortable at all. My skin is on fire at the very idea of him remaining in the room while I go about my … business.

With jabs of my head I make it clear that I want to be left alone. He has the audacity to let out a quiet chuckle.

“Fine,” he says.

He swivels me until I’m leaning against the wall.

“Knock when you’re ready for me to come back in. If I think you’re taking too long, I’ll check on you regardless.”

The moment he exits the room, I use the wall for support and hurry over to the toilet. When I’m done, I move to the basin and rest my weight against the bench. I’m halfway through washing my hands, when I look up and see something that causes me to jerk with shock.

There’s a girl staring straight at me.

Her blue eyes are big — too big — and her dark hair is messy — too messy. There’s a rosy flush in her cheeks, but she looks exhausted otherwise, with deep shadows marring her pale skin.

I reach out a trembling hand and press it against the mirror. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, that it’s really my reflection staring back at me. I look the same but different — so different. When I look at myself now, all I can see is my parents. Their faces flash across my mind until stars burst in my vision. I realize that I’m holding my breath, but I can’t seem to force oxygen down my clogged throat. I’m suffocating on the knowledge of what was, what is … and what will never be again.

“Time’s up, Chip. I’m coming in.”

Ward’s warning is all it takes for me to rip my hand from the glass, but I can’t yet remember how to draw air into my lungs. I watch through the mirror as he opens the door and catches sight of my shell-shocked face. He hisses out a quiet curse and strides quickly across the room, then turns me from my reflection until I’m facing him.

“I’m sorry. I forgot about the mirrors.”

The stars in my vision are blurring now, with flashes of light and dark. All I can see is them.

And me.

Them and me and me and them and them and me and —

“Hey, listen to me, okay? I need you to take a breath. We’ll do it together. In and out. Come on, Chip. Listen to me breathing. In —”

Something about his urgent tone penetrates through the fog of memories. I focus on his commanding voice and shove the images away, sucking in a ragged gasp of air.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “And let it out again.”

I do as he says.

“Good, Chip. Again. In … and out. And in … and out. Just like that.”

My vision is beginning to clear, and with visual clarity comes the stark realization that once again I’m pressed up against Ward’s body, but this time his arms are around me, supporting almost my entire weight. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a panic attack, and I’ve never had one as severe as this. I’m not sure what would have happened if —