I’m stunned but manage to mutter out, “You’re not a —”
But it’s too late. Huxley is already storming down the corridor before I can even finish my sentence.
17
HUXLEY
My breathing is shallow. I can barely take a full breath. I’m storming through the auditorium as my vision starts to blur. My mind racing, my throat tightening, and it feels like reality is slipping away from me.
I can’t breathe.
I can’tbreathe.
I spiral into darkness.
I’m going to die in here.
The thought appears like a ghost, crawling out of the grave I buried it in. Flashes of memories. Torn pieces from my time in prison assault my senses, and I double over, resting my hand on the back of a seat.
I’m going to die in here.
The auditorium disappears, and I’m back there.
I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t do anything.
I’m stuck.
I’m stuck.
I’m stuck.
I sit on my cot. Frozen. Dead eyes staring back at me. My bunkmate. He made a noose out of his bed sheets while I was sleeping. Now he’s dead.
I’m choking back air.
I’m going to die in here.
“Huxley, are you okay?” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I reel back. I shove the hand away and stumble backward. My eyes are wide as I snap back to reality.
Whit stands a few feet away from me, shock splashed on his face. I’m blinking fast, my breathing still shallow, trying as I might not to let myself slip into a flashback again.
“Hux,” he repeats, “What just happened? You’re white as a ghost.”
“I’m …” My tongue feels like cotton in my mouth. I look toward the exit. “I need some air.”
I leave him standing in the middle of the aisle and bolt outside through the front doors. The winter air hits my clammy skin first, my bare arms breaking out into goosebumps, before I’m gulping down oxygen as if I’d been drowning until then.
I hear the door creak behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Whit. I close my eyes and squat down near the wall, curling my arms over my head while shame spills over me like tar. I can’t believe he’s seeing me like this. Atwork.
I don’t know what exactly about my run-in with Connie triggered this, but I blame her for all of it. I need to stay the fuck away from her.
She’s nothing but toxic.
I take a few seconds, trying to ground myself with the icy feeling in my lungs, before standing back up and begrudgingly meeting Whit’s concerned gaze.
