Don't Touch Me Im Scared Novels & Stories

I hold out my hands like the cab driver taught me and try to follow the steps to calm myself down, but that's made difficult because Jake is so much closer to me now. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I'm not ready to touch a man. I'm not. I just want to keep seeing them through a screen, not be near a real one. "Oh my god, do I need to call emergencies?" he asks, touching my neck with two fingers and I almost faint because I like his caress but at the same time I'm so scared. My hands start shaking and I have to close my eyes to stop thinking about him and all the things that scare me so I can get through this.

He takes the plate, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “We’ll see.” We sit at the table, and for a few blissful seconds, there’s only the sound of forks scraping against plates. But of course, I can’t leave well enough alone. “So,” I say between bites, “about this no touching rule…” He groans. “Not this again.” “I’m just saying—it’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? We’re adults. We can survive the occasional accidental brush of the arm.” “It’s not dramatic,” he says flatly. “It’s simple. No touching means no lines get crossed.”

Then I would let the torture consume me once more. "Hey, are you alright?" "DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screeched as his hand touched my shoulder. "Don't touch me. DON'T!" The world around me began to sway and shift, and my ears began to ring. The images were coming quickly now, and it took all I had to grasp for the hand that was suddenly there to help me.

Not again. “No,” I gasped, shoving weakly at his hand, panic climbing fast. My body betrayed me, heat curling low in my stomach even as fear knifed up my spine. I ripped my arm away, clutching it to my chest. “Don’t-don’t touch me.” He froze, frowning like I’d just spoken another language. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I shook my head hard, my eyes burning. “Stay away from me.”

"None of you wanted to touch me since I came back." "We don't want to pressure you; you went through very fucked-up things in that place. We don't want you to feel uncomfortable with us or generate something that can make you remember the shit you went through there." "I'm not going to break, Oscar," I connected my eyes with his. "I don't feel scared with you." "Doll..." he whispered. "I disgust you, is that it?" The pain tinged my voice. "Don't you want to touch me? Why? Am I dirty?" The hand that was on my legs climbed up to grab me by the neck, and he hit me in the face.

"I can't breathe..." "Yes, you can," I whispered. "You're just scared right now, but you're safe, okay? I'm right here." I reached for her hands gently, wrapping them in mine. Her skin was cold and clammy. I rubbed her palms lightly, grounding her through touch. "Look at me, sweetheart," I said softly. "Can you see my face?" Her eyes flicked toward me, still filled with fear. "That's it. Good girl. Now, I want you to do something for me, okay?"

I back away like he’s a ball of flame and spits irritatedly, “Don’t touch me” His hand hangs in the air and I move further back. There’s this weird silence between us and he’s also gone stone still. “I don’t know what you want with me, but you’ve got no right and permission to touch me. And stop following me…you’re creeping me out.”

He wasn't just shaking, he was undergoing his own personal earthquake and taking me along for the ride. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was... scared. My lips parted. My eyes widened. Without my noticing my hands moved, hovering a sliver away from his black-clad arms, as if... as if... No. No way was I going to touch him. No fricken' way. Scowling, I curled my hands into fists and lowered them down to the floor to keep them from any more funny business. Still, there were so many things I wanted to say.

my voice breaks, and I choke back a sob. He doesn’t say anything. My heart pounds as each torturous second ticks by. Silence remains with us for as long as we both stare at each other. Slowly, he gently cradles my face with both hands, tilting my face until I reluctantly meet his gaze. My eyes waters at the kindness I find there. “It is absolutely normal to feel scared, but you don't have to be. I'm here. You would never get rid of your fear if you keep hiding behind closed doors.” He runs his fingers through my hair, his touch soothing. “So let me help you. You only need one step to overcome something triggering… let's take that step together.”

He moves in a way I’m not expecting, and my short nails scrape across his skin. He groans, and a few lights in that power grid flicker to life. “Touch me,” I find myself saying. “Please.” “Put your hands in my hair,” he replies. I didn’t even realize I was avoiding that, but it becomes obvious as soon as he says the words. Despite everything, the latticework of scars scares me a little. My heart thuds as I slide one hand out of his shirt, up his chest, and into his mop of blond hair.