Twenty seven

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Breathe.
My eyes are screwed shut and my heart is pounding.
I dig my fingers into the rug and focus on the soft yet rough feeling against my skin.
I listen closely to the cars speed past under my window, and beneath that, much quieter, a bird sings.
I open my eyes and watch the light dance across the floor from the gap in the curtains.
I inhale deeply, catching the faint scent of Aaron's deodorant and my perfume blending together.
I lick a tear from my upper lip, tasting it's salty sweetness.
Aaron taught me to do this, when panic rises in my throats and threatens to kill me. It grounds me in the moment, so I can breathe again.

I've been here like this for ten minutes, just crying and gasping and fighting for peace. They still aren't back yet, and part of me hopes they never are.
I just want to be alone and sleep.

The front door opens. Aaron calls out a hello, to warn me, but he sounds like he's underwater. I am not ready.

I run to the bathroom, a refuge I have used many times.
Mum is talking, nagging about something, complaining.

"Camilla?"
Aaron's voice by the door. I didn't even hear him come up the stairs.

"Yes?" I whisper.

"We're going to the airport."

My heart leaps.
"Why?"

"To pick up your Dad."
It falls again.

"Oh."

"Let me in?"

I shake my head.
"No."

"Please?"

"Why?"

"I want to hug you back together again."

I laugh, can't hold it in, this is what he does to me.

"Not now. Go. I'll clean myself up and make some dinner."

"Ok."

I wait a few minutes, till I think he's gone, then open the door. He's standing there waiting.

He grins at me, big and stupid, but I can see the worry behind his eyes.

He kisses me quickly, quietly, then goes downstairs.

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