Chapter Fourteen: Repercussions

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TW: Panic attack 

Be safe ily <3

George POV 

The sound of the car engine rumbling is the only noise that can be heard as we drive down the street. It's only been a few moments since we left Alex's house. My body finally feels like my own again, with only a little lingering tingle underneath my skin. It makes my entire body feel like something is crawling just beneath my skin, it takes all my willpower to not start digging at my skin. 

I turn my head towards Clay, who has both of his hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning a bright white. His breathing is fast and frantic, his gaze never leaving the road in front of us. 

His nose is still bleeding profusely, dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. His bottom lip also looks split open, adding to the trail of blood running down his face. I'm sitting on the wrong side to see his bruised cheek but I'm going to assume that it's awful. 

He glances at me, eyes widening ever so slightly seeing me back with my free will. He lifts a hand from the steering wheel and quickly signs– too quick for me to understand immediately. His hand is shaking which isn't making this any easier. After a few moments, I realize what he asked. 

You ok? 

I respond as soon as I've deciphered his question. "Y-yes Clay I'm fine, are-are you? You look–your nose is still bleeding a lot," the words tumble out of my mouth. I stare at him waiting for a sign that he heard me. I don't get one. 

Clay is fixed on the road, his grip on the wheel unrelenting, and his breathing still as erratic as before. I drop my eyes to the speedometer, it reads 65 mph and is slowly increasing. We just pasted a sign that read 40mph. The road we're driving on is curvy and has a few blind corners. My heart picks up as I realize the situation we are in. If Clay slips up at all, there is a high chance we wouldn't make it from a crash. 

"Clay, can you slow down?" I attempt to ask. My voice is unsteady and small, nerves eating away at my already fragile confidence. Still no reaction. His eyes are glossed over, completely disassociated, stuck in his own mind. I take a breath, mustering all the courage I have left. 

"Clay! Pull over now!" I shout, louder than I thought I would. It works though, Clay blinks hard, coming back to reality. He glances at me with a guilt-ridden expression, before moving his foot off the gas and slowing the car down. We pull off to the side of the road, almost completely off of the asphalt. 

I let out a sigh, finding some relief in knowing we aren't going to get in a car crash tonight. It's short-lived though, I need to deal with the panicked alpha next to me. I lean forward and open the glove compartment and, thankfully, Clay has a small collection of Dunkin Donuts napkins stored inside. 

I grab a handful and pour a little water from a water bottle that has been resting in a cup holder for who knows how long. It's not the most sanitary thing but it's what we have. 

I turn to Clay, who has leaned back against the headrest, his left leg bouncing at a rapid pace, and his hands tangled in the hem of his bloody shirt. His breathing is still too fast for me to be comfortable with. 

He's really fucking anxious, certainly too anxious to drive right now. I slowly reach a hand out towards his chin, grasping with the lightest touch, and turn him to face me. Clay jumps at the sudden contact, sucking in a tight breath. 

"Shh shh it's ok. I just want to clean your face, is that ok?" I ask as softly as I can. The last thing I need to be right now is demanding. Even with being separated for years, the way Clay handles his panic attacks is still the same. 

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