" the look on your face says there's more on your mind . "
fuck. fuck fuck fuck. of course. of course, elena has to come around when jay's buckling in on himself. when his chest is tight, when his throat is closing. there are too many holes in his brain. too many memories repressed from the two years he was shackled, only slowly climbing to the surface in the three years since. but it isn't a slow crawl to the surface. it's violent, ripping through his brain like bullets. flashing images almost blinding him that send him fucking reeling.
he's always had panic attacks, ever since he was little. but before the brothel, he had started to manage them. made it where he barely ever had them anymore. and sure, jay has learned to self-soothe since the brothel, but the panic attacks come more frequently than ever before.
jay's lungs burn, breaths coming out in quick gasps. his vision blurs, and brown eyes slowly raise to look at elena. fuck. he didn't want her to see him like this. so he tries to hide it immediately, but it's a little difficult when the panic has become physical, not just mental.
push her away. that's what he wants, and it shows in his words. "--don't... don't. get away from me." but there's no strength in his words, as if jay doesn't believe them at all. tattooed hands furl into his hair, and his eyes squeeze closed. please don't hate me for this.
