“Hey, what the fuck? What’s the matter?” he asks, sitting up in bed and staring at me, wide eyed.

“I. Need. To. Run,” I say through panic-laden breaths. “It keeps me sane. I need to run.”

“Calm down. You’re not going on your own, you don’t leave this fucking house without one of us. How far do you go? You sort of wandered last time.”

“You followed me?” I pant, my chest feeling tight, my vision dimming at the sides.

“Of course I did, you got up in the middle of the night, it’s fucking dangerous.”

My eyes feel too large for my head, my skin tight. He’s not going to let me go, I’m a prisoner, but even those in jail get to roam and have some exercise. I’m on the verge of another panic attack, I’ve never had two so close together, but this is what being around him does to me. My mind descends into a mental tailspin and there’s nothing I can do but brace for impact and hope I’m still me on the other side.

“Fuck. Little bird, stop, just fucking breathe, I’ll run with you, but if you try to leave campus there will be consequences.”

Nodding rapidly, I scramble off the bed as he reaches for me. His brow furrows as if he’s surprised that I wouldn’t want to be touched by him when I’m feeling this overwhelmed and vulnerable. My dad would comfort me, he’d talk me off this ledge I’m balanced precariously on, but he isn’t here and Sebastian is the cause of my panic, not the resolution.

Ignoring the fact that I’m naked except for one of his shirts, I stand up and try to expand my lungs and pull in as much air as I can. Closing my eyes, I try to forget where I am and who I’m with and picture myself in my room at my dad’s place. I pretend the silence is the peace of the calm existence we lived and gradually it works. When I open my eyes I’m not in the bedroom anymore, I’m in the bathroom, backed up against a cool tile wall, my hands covering my ears.

Blinking, I cough to clear my dry throat. I’m not sure how I got in here, if I walked myself, or if Sebastian carried me in here. My throat is sore and my chest is still tight, but I can breathe and the blind panic has faded to a pulsing undertone of anxiety that I know won’t go away anytime soon. My hands are shaking as I reach in and turn on the shower, not waiting for it to warm before I step beneath the frosty-feeling water. The cold shocks me, but I embrace it, stripping off his shirt and ducking my hair beneath the frozen stream, dousing myself before it becomes lukewarm. I turn the water off before it gets hot and jump out of the shower, rubbing my goose bump–coated body with a towel.