Cage

14.

Alex POV

I run, looking for any other guard. My body still hurts from where the girl hit me back. After what I saw tonight, having Grant or someone kill me would be a blessing.

As I'm running, I'm pushed against a wall. My cheek is pressed against the cold grey surface. "You said I must stop being nice. Why?"

I close my eyes. Everything feels like a mess. I just need to try and calm the wildfire that's tearing through me. I keep seeing myself being torn apart like the man in the dome.

I try to calm my mind, wiping everything that just happened from my memory. I can't remember the bad stuff. I can't focus on it. Because if I do, I'd drown in it.

It feels like my head is spinning. I grab onto my chest, because it feels like my heart is ripping apart inside me.

Cage turns me to face him, waiting for a response. He glances down at my hand that's still on my chest. "Because nobody has ever been nice to me before. Every second of my life has been a nightmare. Nobody has ever protected me. I've always had to get through my shit on my own."

I'm tired of it. So damn tired of relying on someone, only to be betrayed. It rather see the world for what it is—a nightmare.

Cage stays silent.  I take in deep breaths, trying to put myself back together after seeing what I saw tonight.

My breathing is fast and erratic. My mind is spinning. My heart is beating way too fast. I feel sick. It feels like there is a hard force that is crushing me, stopping me from breathing. I lean back against the wall, hoping it will keep me from falling.

My breathing becomes faster and more erratic with each second. It feels like I am shaking but I'm not. I think.

Slowly, Cage takes my face in his hands. He's deep green eyes watch me. "Look at me," he whispers. He starts singing a song that I don't recognize. I stare into his eyes and after a while my breathing becomes normal again.

I get lost in the intensity of his eyes. In that moment, I know why they say the eyes are the window to the soul. I can see the pain and the loneliness trapped inside him. I can see the kindness, too.

"You're okay. I've got you. Just breathe." He pulls my face closer to him, his eyes remaining on mine.

Suddenly, he is all I can see. All I want to see.

I quickly pull away and look anywhere else but in his eyes. What did he see in mine? I shake my head and look up at him again. What just happened? I frown and purse my lips.

He gives me a small smile. He slides his arm behind my waist and pulls me closer to him. My breath gets caught in my throat when his eyes trail down to my lips.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

His eyes meet mine again and he pauses for a moment, before stepping back. "I... Um... I don't... Nothing."

"Thank you, Cage. It felt like I was losing myself and you-you..." I don't know what he did.

He nods and folds his arms. "Yeah, um, my little brother used to get panic attacks," he explains.

"I was having a panic attack?" I ask.

"Yeah, it seemed like it. You were shaking, you were struggling to breathe, you could barely stand which means you were probably dizzy or faint and you had your hand on your chest, which I assume was because of chest pain, but I'm not sure. All seemed like signs of a panic attack."

"No. No, I don't get panic attacks." I shake my head, stepping back. Why do I feel so defensive about it?

"Well, you just did," he comments. "You just saw a man brutally murdered. Of course you're going to be in shock."

My mouth feels dry. "I've seen someone brutally murdered before. I've seen some terrifying things. I've been betrayed and hurt and lost and almost killed. I've been accused of murder but this... this is what gives me a panic attack?" I ask.

I close my eyes and breathe.

I'm okay. I'm still alive. I'm still fighting.

I feel Cage's cold fingertips against my skin as he tucks some of my hair behind my ear. I open my eyes to look up at him. He is closer than I expected, but I don't seem to mind it.

"You're a good person, Alex," he says. "I've seen a lot of bad people in this place, but you're not one of them."

I don't reply. I can't think of anything to say.

He takes my silence as a cue to continue. "I've been hurt, too. I've been alone and I felt lost to a point where I didn't think I could be saved. I still feel alone, even when I'm surrounded by people."

"I know what you need."

"What?" he asks.

"A therapist."

He chuckles and nods, looking down and then to the side. "Yeah, I've tried that. If I hear one more person ask 'and how does that make you feel?', I'm going to punch someone."

"And how does that make you feel?" I tease. I had to.

He grabs me and pulls me closer, so close that I can feel his breath fan across my skin. I can see the freckles splattered across his nose. "I may not punch you, but I could kiss you really, really hard. So hard that your lips are left swollen."

"I don't believe you," I breathe out.

He pauses for a second, thinking over his actions. He lets me go. "Um, I should take you back to your cell."

"Right... take me."

0•0•0•0•0

TAKE ME NOW, CAGE

Qotd: What do you guys think about self-care?

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