“Disconnected.”

He pursed his lips, nodding. “How so?”

At that moment, I felt as if I were floating above myself, just another framed artifact on his wall. “I can’t focus.”

“Okay, well let’s try another antidepressant.” Dr. Brace pulled out his prescription pad, scribbled something down, tore off the sheet, and extended it to me.

Later that day, when I picked up my medication, the pharmacist told me the side effects can include nervousness, restlessness, fatigue and insomnia, and I laughed out loud without meaning to.

Chapter 78

The effects of the new medication were similar to that of an ecstasy high mixed with a tranquilizer. I watched the world through the thick-rimmed base of a crystal tumbler, somehow seeing things happening behind me while staring straight ahead. My movements were groggy and slow, uncalculated yet hyper-focused. By the time the light-imbued currents were transmitted from my retinas to my brain, so many other things had transpired it was like existing in the past.

The nights were the hardest. I’d lay awake for hours, replaying, with razor precision, those final conversations with Jack.

One evening, after finally falling asleep, I shot upright in a panic. I rolled out of bed, landing on all fours. I crawled across the hardwood. Standing, shakily, I began walking toward the bathroom; it felt as though I was wading through honey. Slow, sticky, heavy. My limbs were fighting gravity.

When I reached the bathroom, I checked my reflection. My pupils were fully dilated. The blue of my irises had disappeared. The blackness had arrived, surrounded only by white.

I turned to the toilet and started dry heaving. Thin yellow bile trickled out, leaving a rancid taste in my mouth. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.

I staggered back to my bedroom and grabbed my phone, dialling the numbers slowly, as if hypnotized by the device’s light.

“Grace?” Jack’s voice was groggy.

“Jack, something terrible…” I stammered. “…is happening. Call an ambulance.”

“What’s the matter?”

I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling for a heartbeat. “I can’t…” Rasping, I drew in breath. “I can’t breathe.”

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “It’s just a panic attack.”

“Please, Jack. Please, come over.”

“Grace.”

I heard a soft voice in the background on the other end of the phone. “Please,” I moaned.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’m on my way.”

The time it took for Jack to arrive seemed endless. My entire body convulsed as sweat dripped from my forehead and my teeth chattered. I brought the backs of my cold hands to my cheeks in an attempt to soothe my uncontrollable jaw.

I heard the jingle of Jack’s keys outside the window. The front door opened and shut.

Jack stood in the doorway of my bedroom. “What’s going on?”

My entire body was trembling. “I’m…dying.”

“You’re not going to die.” He folded his arms across his chest. “At least not today. You have any more blankets?”

“The closet,” I muttered, my teeth clicking together.

Jack pulled a knitted quilt from the closet and tossed it carelessly on top of me.