“Voice or voices?” he asked.
“Uh…” She fidgeted on her stool, not quite sure how to respond, and more than a little worried the wrong answer would land her in hot water. “Mostly my voice.”
“But sometimes Maya’s?” Jamie asked, keeping his expression neutral, and she nodded. “Okay, that seems normal considering the circumstances.”
“Normal?” she blurted, her eyes focusing hard on his. “You’re aware my sister is a psychotic sociopath, right?”
“I’m aware,” he said dryly. “But I’m also aware you’re not, so let’s continue.”
“How can you be so sure?” Jesus! He sounded so fucking confident, it gave her hope, and her heart hitched hard enough to send pain signals to her brain. “What if I snap and hurt someone?” She clapped her hand against her chest, fingers kneading sore muscles to ease the squeezing ache.
“There are enough people here who’d never let that happen, but sure, let’s play pretend for a second. Have you ever wanted to hurt anyone?”
“Yes!” she said with more force than necessary, hoping he got the message and realized the danger she presented.
“I mean, to someone who wasn’t hurting you at the same time?”
“Well, no. But?—”
“Have you ever thought about harming the people you care about?”
“No. But?—”
“Have you ever caused anyone any physical pain in a situation where you weren’t defending yourself?”
“No. But?—”
“No buts, Becca. You said it yourself the first time we sat here—as long as it doesn’t involve harming anyone in any way. Remember?”
“That was different,” she grumbled, slightly disgruntled by her protests landing on deaf ears, but also relieved he seemed to have some faith in her ability to know right from wrong even in her catatonic state.
“Bullshit,” he replied, the no-nonsense older brother calling her out. “Tell me what brings on the panic attacks. What’s the trigger?”
“I don’t know.”
“More bullshit,” he huffed again. “If I can figure it out, I know you can too.”
“Fine,” she snapped, her tone trending toward bitchy. “Too many emotions. Too many feelings. I…I get overwhelmed, and I shut down. It’s not…I don’t do it on purpose. It just happens. I freeze, and I can’t hear anything but the voices in my head.” She twirled her finger around her temple like he needed further proof of her mental instability.
“And what were you feeling tonight in the kitchen?”
“Nothing,” she lied, because it was easier than trying to explain her fears and anxiety without sounding like she should be under observation.
“Becca.” His voice gentle but firm, Jamie demanded the truth.
She sighed. “Fine. I was happy. Sad. Worried. Nervous. Scared.”
“Happy about what?”
“About being here.”
“And sad about?”
Her emotions rising in her chest like a dangerous wave, she clenched her fists and did her best to tamp them down. “About Jay. The baby. I can’t…we can’t…” she stuttered, unable to continue.
Jamie understood and dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for both of you. Why don’t you tell me what you’re scared about instead?”
“Jesus. Anyone ever call you stubborn to your face?”
