Chapter 1

Sam

The flashing red and blue lights in the club are sending my brain haywire. My heart thumps hard against my ribs in tune with the heavy bass music as I press my body against the cold concrete wall. It feels nice against my clammy skin, even though it’s scratching the backs of my arms as I tremble.

This was a terrible idea.

If I can barely get through a night in my apartment without having a panic attack, why did I think a night out in a busy bar was going to be any better?

Because I’m desperate, that’s why. I don’t sleep anymore, too afraid of the nightmares that will come. Going out partying seemed like a better alternative to another lonely night staring at the four walls of my tiny apartment. It’s not though. It’s way worse.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to drag in a deep, shaky breath and hold it, counting to ten as I try to control my overwrought nervous system. Adrenaline is flooding my system, telling me I’m in danger again and that I need to run.

I’m not in danger. I’m in a shitty nightclub that’s not even all that busy, with a group of work colleagues I barely know, just to prove something to myself. But my body won’t listen. It’s gone into a tailspin and I know from experience, there’s only one way to drag myself out of it.

Coming here has backfired spectacularly. All it’s proven is that I’m not alright. My life hasn’t gone back to normal since the fire. And I haven’t got a clue what I’m supposed to do now.

“Sam? Sam, are you okay?” I’m vaguely aware of a familiar voice trying to reach me, but I can’t open my eyes again. All I can do is focus on my breathing, my phone in a death grip in my hand. Finally, I feel centred enough to open my eyes and unlock my phone.

Jeff, a guy from my office, is trying to get me to look at him, to talk to him, but I block him out. I know what will calm me. It’s the only thing that calms me. Jeff looks frantic, so I throw him a bone, gesturing that I need a drink. He runs off to get me some water and I take the chance to slide down the wall to sit on the dirty floor. My beautiful dress is going to be ruined, but I don’t care.

I don’t care about anything anymore. I used to love my work. My career meant everything to me. It’s all slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how to stop it. My brain doesn’t work like it used to, and I’m beyond frustrated. I was unstoppable, but that night has turned me into a shadow of my former self and it’s not fair. The fire has taken my old life away. I don’t recognise this hollow version of myself, who’s scared, weak, and fragile.

I ignore the disgusted looks of other patrons as they step past me. They all assume that I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I’m slowly falling apart at the seams.

Opening up my voice messages, I listen to the last one I have from him. The only one I have.

Pressing play, I hold the phone to my ear and screw my eyes shut as Sean’s deep voice fills my head and brings me back down to earth. I’ve listened to this message a hundred times in the dead of night. When I’m spiralling out of control, it’s the only thing that centres me. I’m sobbing now, but for a different reason.

I can hear the hurt in Sean’s voice as he asks me where I am.

Like a coward, I snuck out after the most magical night of my life. He got out of the shower to an empty bed with no explanation why I bolted in the middle of the night.

And because he’s the best man I have ever met, he tells me he won’t try to convince me to come back. He just wants me to just call him and let him know that I’m home safe. He begs me to let him help with what I’m going through, and at the very least, to call him and stay in touch.

And like the bitch that I am, even though he helped save my life, I never even did that.

I cling to the phone like it’s my lifeline, playing the message again and again as Jeff tries to force me to take the water. Suddenly Tara is in my face, waving her hand in front of my eyes as she tries to get my attention. Finally, she gives up and resorts to lifting me to my feet by my armpits, steering me towards the front door. She leans me against the wall while she flags a taxi, frowning as she watches me just stare into space. It’s not the first time she’s seen me like this, but I’ve hidden my panic attacks from her since that first time. She was so worried. It was easier to just pretend everything was fine.

There won’t be any pretending after this one.

I don’t remember getting home or falling asleep, but when I come to on the sofa, Tara is whispering in the next room. I’m still wearing my dress, but she’s pulled off my heels and placed them neatly beside the front door. There’s a thick fluffy blanket draped over me which I pull up to my chin and snuggle down into. My throat is scratchy, and my eyes are sore. I’m so tired, but even the thought of sleep has my anxiety going through the roof again. Shame over being such a mess in a public place creeps over me. Anyone could have seen me. I feel like crawling under this blanket and hiding from the world forever.

The door creaks as Tara tiptoes back into the room. I open one eye again when I feel her staring at me. She looks concerned but determined, and I know this isn’t going to be a comfortable conversation for me. We’ve been friends for the last five years since I moved to the city to land my dream job and she let me move into her flat. Two promotions each later, we have our own places but probably still spend just as much time together. She’s like a sister to me, and she’s not happy I’ve been lying to her.

“How long have they been back?” she asks, lifting my feet and placing them back in her lap as she sits down. I wince and grit my teeth to stop the automatic denial flying from my lips.

“Jesus Sam, they never stopped, did they? This entire time!” she shakes her head. She’s annoyed but trying her hardest not to be. “Why did you tell me?”

“I wanted everything to be normal. All I wanted was to forget all about it and go back to the way things were,” I mumble stubbornly, even though I’m aware of how lame it sounds.

“And how’s that working out for you?” Tara asks sarcastically. I turn away and go back to staring at a spot on the floor. “You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Sam. It’s clearly had a bigger impact on you than you want to admit, and you need to deal with this before it gets worse.”

“I will. I’ll find a therapist and book in for a session. It’ll be fine,” I promise reluctantly, trying to force a smile on, but it falls when I see the way Tara is looking at me.

“A session. Sam, you’re not sleeping, you’re obviously not eating, and I haven’t seen you smile once since you got home. You shouldn’t be working…”

“No Tara, I need to work. It’s the only thing that stops me from thinking…” I panic at the idea of having nothing but endless hours with my thoughts. “And if I tell work, I can kiss goodbye to that promotion. They’ll never give me any good cases if they think I can’t deal with a little stress.”

“A little stress? Sam, you nearly died!”

“Let me try the therapy first. If it’s not helping, I’ll take some time off. Please,” I plead. Tara is a manager in the law firm where I work. If she tells anyone, I can kiss my job goodbye. It’s a cutthroat industry, and they’ll pounce on any weakness you have.

“What about Jeff?” she asks, eyeing me warily.

“We’ll tell him my drink got spiked, but that I’m fine now,” I suggest, and she frowns, not thrilled about the idea of lying to anyone. “Please Tara, please. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Fine, I won’t tell anyone at work. But you deal with this. I’ll come to your appointments with you if you want, or you can move back in with me, so you have someone to talk to?” she offers. Her blue eyes shine with worry as she tucks her black wavy hair back behind her ears. Taking her hand in mine, I shake my head emphatically and fix a weak smile on my face. The last thing I want is for anyone else to see the state that I’m actually in.

“I’ll go,” I assure her, even though the thought fills me with dread. “You don’t need me back cramping your love life.” Tara has a new boyfriend, and he’s practically moved in with her. He seems like a nice guy, and I know they wouldn’t mind, but the last thing I want to be is the third wheel to their new relationship while I’m moping about. Plus, she’d know the extent of how bad things are if she saw me up watching tv at all hours every night.

Tara’s right though. I can’t continue like this. I need to face what happened to me, and what I did afterwards.

That might be the worst part.