Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Nora—”
“I just want it all to stop!” I shout, my volume making both Maggie and I jump. “How do I make it stop?”
“Nora,” Maggie says my name again, but firmer this time. “I need you to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and tell me five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.”
I try to do as she says, but it’s almost as if I can feel his hands around my throat.
“In through your nose,” she guides me. “That’s right, Nora. Good. And out through your mouth. Again.”
After several deep breaths, I begin counting. “I-I can see James’s crib, his rocking chair, his dresser…” It takes an eternity, but as I work my way down the list, I can feel my panic lessening, as both my heart rate and my breathing return to normal. “I can taste my lip balm—it’s vanilla.”
“Good, Nora. Any time you’re struggling with staying in the present, this is a great method to reground yourself. I also think it would be beneficial for you to confide in Atlas—he can’t offer support for an issue he’s not aware of.”
“I… I don’t want to burden him, though. He… he killed his dad for me, Maggie. What if he—”
“Want to know the best way to clear up those what-ifs?” She gives me a knowing look. “Talk to him.”
“Yeah.” I heave out a heavy sigh. “You’re right.”
“Another great method is vagus nerve stimulation.”
“Vagus what now?”
“Basically, if you’re in a panic state, try sipping some cold water slowly or rub an ice cube across your wrist. Even a bag of frozen peas to your chest. This temperature change activates your vagus nerve, which is a part of your autonomous nervous system. When you activate it by changing the temperature, your body naturally calms down.”
“Huh.” I pull the blanket tighter around me. “Probably a method I should tell Atlas and Ellis about.”
Maggie smiles. “Probably. And, Nora, I definitely think you should give your diary another try.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I will try to write again and talk to Atlas. Thank you, Maggie.”
“Any time, Nora. And as always, if you need me before our next session, I’m here.”
I wait for the screen to go dark before disconnecting on my end and closing the laptop. Maggie’s right—my diary is a part of me, and I’m not letting Rand take it from me. I refuse.
And so, with a new sense of confidence, I abandon the desk in favor of James’s rocker, determined and ready to put the pain Rand’s caused me to paper, so that once and forever, I can give it away.
DIARY ENTRY, PRESENT DAY
Dear Diary,
It’s been a whole week since everything went down. Seven whole days of Atlas and Ellis treating me like I’m made of the most fragile, handblown glass. 168 hours of the two of them micromanaging my every movement—down to when I eat and how much I sleep. 10,080 minutes of being torn between relief and dread.
I sound dramatic, but for the love of God, I can hardly even pee alone. They’re driving me up the wall.
You’d think with Rand gone, I’d finally be truly free. But the guys barely want to leave the house. I haven’t even gotten a new phone—which means I haven’t talked to Scarlet either.
Somehow, I’m surrounded by love, but more alone than ever.
Now I sound selfish, but I just want everything to be normal again.
I want to claim the second chance at life —well, third chance, really—I’ve been given. I want to explore, go to school, find a job. I want to do it all, but every time I mention it, Atlas turns into a worried mother hen.
Don’t get me wrong, I love his protectiveness, but there’s a divide between us now. A disconnect. He’s coddling me when all I want is to finally spread my wings and fly.
There’s so much more I want to tell you, Diary. But I hear my keepers, as well-intentioned as they may be, calling for me, and if I don’t respond, they very well may bust down the door.
Annoyed, Nora
CHAPTER 50
ATLAS
“What time was her appointment again?” Ellis asks, interrupting my nervous pacing.
“Ten.”
“That was two hours ago,” he mutters, slapping another slice of cheese onto the sandwich he’s making.
“Well aware.” My answers are short, but we’ve both been wound tighter than tight since bringing Nora home. And with us both on leave from work, we have all the time in the world to worry.
Worry about what? Every-fucking-thing. Is Nora eating enough? Is she sleeping well? Is she having nightmares? Does she blame me for her getting taken? Is James okay? Will I be a good dad? And on, and on, and on.
Honestly, I’m on my own nerves at this point, so it’s a wonder Nora hasn’t told me to take a hike.