a moment, so does pride. I watch as she takes a minute to decide how she wants to move forward. I clearly inherited some of Taz’s arrogance, because I probably shouldn’t behave like this to an angel Legion Colonel, but if she’s not going to show me even a scrap of respect, why should I show her any?
Thunder suddenly booms so loudly it shakes the walls, and out of nowhere, I hear little plinks of raindrops start to hit the glass of the windows all around us. As soon as I turn my head in distraction, Tazreel starts in on Nefta, and the two of them start bickering, but I don’t hear what they’re saying.
A violent downpour has started outside, and my eyes become stuck on the dark view out the window. My vision tunnels as fear claws up my throat, and painful memories I can never seem to push out come flooding into my mind.
Half of me is aware of what’s going on in this room, but the other half is trapped in my own head—in overwhelming panic and traumatic memories. And that’s the half that dominates me.
I whimper, feeling my limbs trying to lock up. My head swivels wildly as I try to find a way to get out—out of this room, out of my head, out of the panic that’s now seizing my every muscle. My first instinct is to find something loud enough to drown out the sounds of the storm. That’s what I do at home—I blast the rock music and hide behind the drawn curtains, waiting it out.
But there’s nothing in here except bitterness, accusation, and the fucking color white.
Terror slams through me as I realize I’m stuck. I’m trapped in here, surrounded by the pelting sound of rain, with flashes of lightning and the brutal sound of thunder that shakes the building.
I immediately bring a hand up to cover my nose so that I don’t smell the rain. I can maybe—and this is a tiny maybe—ward off the horrible memories that I associate with the sounds of a thunderstorm. But I can’t ward them off if I smell the rain.
Short puffs of breath hit my cupped palm as I breathe against my hand, my eyes bouncing from window to window. I can’t do this here. I can’t break down in front of these strangers. I don’t care if Taz and Nefta are my biological parents—they don’t belong in my emotional turmoil.
Dread fits on top of me like a second skin, which only seems to add to the hysteria I can feel floating to the surface of who I am.
A streak of lightning arcs through the sky, the electric tendrils looking like gnarled limbs coming to rip me apart. I slam my eyes closed and grit my teeth, but then another crash of thunder erupts in the air, shaking the very foundation of my soul. A strangled noise slips out of my throat, and memories, horrible memories push and pull and pinch at me, refusing to be ignored.
“Jeter, what’s wrong?” I hear Crux say, but I can’t focus on his voice or find his face in all the panic. All that exists is thunder and lightning and rain and pain.
“Take a deep breath, Delta,” Echo encourages, but I can hear the rain falling even harder, and I know that if I breathe deeply, I’ll smell it.
A sob slips out of my throat despite my efforts to swallow it back down, but I realize it’s too late. I’m too late. I have none of my usual tricks to stave off the panic attack.
The moment another crack of lightning splits in the air, the last of my resolve splinters. Memories slam into me like sledgehammers crushing me to a pulp. All I can do is relive it over and over again.
Thunder booms all around me, and the lights in the living room flicker. Sitting up on the couch, I lean over the back of it and push down one of the slats in the blinds covering the window and see the torrential downpour that’s going on outside.
My stomach growls, and I check the time on my watch again. Where are they? It’s already six, and dad promised we could grab pizza from Antonio’s tonight. I stare at the cordless phone charging on the wall and debate calling them again, but I’m too lazy to get up.
A flash of lightning catches my attention outside. I count one Mississippi, two Mississippi, and then the thunder rumbles through the