The first panic attack happened in a bathroom. It was small, tucked behind Dexter’s private office, designed for convenience rather than comfort. Concrete walls. A mirror that reflected too much light. No window, of course. Charlie had gone there to breathe. He’d learned the early signs pressure behind the eyes, the faint buzzing in his ears, the sense that his body was slipping a half second behind his thoughts. He’d excused himself quietly from the meeting Emily had insisted he sit through, murmured sorry out of habit, and slipped away before anyone could stop him. The lock clicked. The sound was final. His chest seized. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no sobbing, no collapse to the floor. Just the sudden, terrifying inability to pull in a full breath. His lungs stuttered, shallow and useless, as if they’d forgotten their job. He braced both hands on the sink, knuckles whitening. He focused on the mirror, on the familiar face looking back at him too pale, eyes too larg
Last Updated : 2026-02-06 Read more