The Mistake

Guilty

Samantha

Everything was still. We stood in the dark alleyway, the whisper of the wind singing through our tousled hair and clothes.

I didn't know what I was doing; I was confused and angry and frightened and here I was willingly in the arms of a boy I was pretty sure I was scared of. But all I could think about in the time he was gone talking to Red was if he was ever going to come back.

Maybe that's why when I saw him walk back after they left inexplicably, all I felt was a sense of relief. I raced to him and when he wrapped his arms around me I felt myself melt into him.

As strange and ironic as it was, the times I've felt safest have been whenever I was close to Nick.

He had his arms secured tightly around my waist and back and I buried my head in his chest, in the spot just beneath his neck. I could hear his heartbeat and I felt him breathe out shakily as he held me closer.

The seconds ticked by. My breaths and my pulse got steadier. When I was finally thinking clearly again was when I pulled back from him as I felt heat rise to my face, suddenly ashamed. My tired body yearned for his warmth again, the brisk evening air suddenly feeling harsher on my skin. But I was snapped back to reality.

His expression turned guilt-stricken and his face sagged in remorse. I couldn't look at him anymore and turned my gaze towards the ground. My mind was trying to make sense of everything and I couldn't keep up. I didn't know what to say or what to do. Thousands of questions kept stirring in my brain and plus the way he was looking at me was making me— anxious. Oh God not again.

My vision was getting blurry and I couldn't breathe evenly anymore and I wondered why an anxiety attack hadn't taken over me right in the middle of it all. Maybe it was all the adrenaline clouding my emotions.

"Sammi-" Nick started with a concerned tone and reached towards me to cup my cheek. The sound of the main door groaning open startled us both and I flinched back from his touch. People who were either drunk or high or just excited from the fight started pouring out. The fights had ended and the nightly party was coming to an end. The crowds of people making their way out of the hidden alley were making me panic even more. So many people.

I could barely speak, but I didn't need to. I turned to look at Nick and he seemed to understand what I was asking. "Come on." He placed a protective arm around my shoulders and guided me through the crowd while I struggled to catch my breath and see through the blurriness.

Nick turned to look at me with a concerned expression every few steps. I felt myself turn bright red. He didn't know I had anxiety. I probably looked crazy to him right now. I was just thankful this panic attack wasn't one of the worse ones where I couldn't see or walk. Not yet, anyway.

A drunk man passing by bumped into me, nearly throwing me off balance. Nick let go of me, grabbed the guy by his shoulder and turned him around. "Watch where you're going, asshole." He growled viciously to the man with a rough shove. The man was too drunk to respond and just laughed, mumbling a curse word at him and stumbling away.

"Nick," I begged. "Just take me home, please." He was tense and angry. I could see it in his eyes. He was mad about what had happened, and I realized he felt guilty too.

Guilty about what could have happened to me. That's why he felt he needed to protect me now. He doesn't actually care about you. This isn't about you at all. The times he's saved me have all been to save his conscience from feeling guilty, and I've known it since the first time he nearly killed Terrence so many nights ago.