Strauss
Finley P.O.V
I can’t breathe.
It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, compressing my ribs so my lungs can’t expand. The lack of oxygen to my brain makes my usual mess of thoughts buzz angrily like bees behind my eyes. Numbers pop up one after another, equations and shapes dancing across my vision as I struggle to gulp in some air.
I have some sociopathic traits, I know that, I’ve been diagnosed with them. One of those is suppressing emotions during times of great turmoil, but they always come back with a vengeance.
Someone’s talking to me - Issie, it’s Issie - but I can’t hear her. My heart is throbbing in my ears and blocking out almost all sound. The feeling is choking me - IcantbreathIcantbreathe ICANTBREATHE!
The lack of air and sudden nausea is all too much and I fall down on my knees to hurl up my stomach.
Bile burns my throat and nose as more and more vomit escapes me. I throw up once, then twice, and dry heave until my stomach is sore and tears are streaming down my face. There’s not much to throw up, I can’t remember the last time I sat down long enough to eat a full meal. But the vomiting is enough to snap me out of my haze and take in my surroundings.
I’m home, the carpet is too ugly for me not to be. It’s even uglier with my vomit staining it. Dad’s flitting around me with Derek who I didn’t expect to be here. They’re looking for cleaning supplies. Issie’s next to me and she’s gathered all my hair away from my face while she rubs my back.
“It’s alright, chica, it’s alright,” she coos softly. Her eyes widen when she realizes I’m back to the present so she probably expected me to be at my Mind Bridge for a bit.
I can barely lift my head up to look at her. “She… she lied, Iss.”
My best friend sighs and tilts her head on my shoulder as Dad and Derek clean up the carpet as fast as they can. “I know, Finnie.”
“Why did she do it?” my voice cracks but I really can’t give a fuck right now.
Issie scooches closer so she’s curled into my side. “Derek says she was on an undercover mission in Paris.” She glances up at me. “Still a pretty dicky move.”
I can tell she’s trying to get me to smile, but I can’t, not even as Dad and Derek join us on the ground.
Dad moves to gather me in a side-hug, and I look up at him. “Are you really going to ... resign?” I have to pause in the middle of my question to catch my breath and it hits me that my body’s shutting down.
Derek exchanges looks with his coworker before they nod towards me. “We both are,” my dad’s sort-of-but-not-really-even-though-he-totally-is boyfriend says.
Guilt hits me in the stomach. “Because of … me?”
“No, no, of course not bubs,” Dad reassures me quickly, using the nickname he had for me as a baby. “Well, sort of, because she didn’t respect your boundaries, but they lied to us too.”
“We contacted Strauss to get the resignation papers sorted. She totally understood the situation, apparently she was against it to begin with,” Derek sounds floored and a part of my mind that’s still operating is too, that lady’s usually a bitch. “She says our contracts say we have to work for another four months before our resignations are finalized.
But,” he nudged me slightly, “She said you could come on any future missions as long as you stay out of the direct action.”
That’s enough to startle me awake and I give a genuine small smile. “That sounds awesome.” Black dots dance in front of my vision. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
My eyes roll into my head and I faint.
****