A small whimper escapes my lips. The memories wash over me in waves. Stuck. Alone. Scared. Knowing that no one was coming to rescue me.
I knock again, this time with the driving force of my desperation.
“Help! I’m stuck. Anyone there?”
No one’s there. They never were.
“Help!” I bang some more, louder, harder. “Someone help me!” My forehead beads with sweat.
I’m breathing too hard. Can’t get enough air. Darkness threatens my vision. “Don’t pass out. Breathe.” I count each breath, trying to make them slow. One-two-three-in. One-two-three-out. It’s not working. My muscles spasm.
“Please help me!” I slap with the heel of my palm. Nothing.
Helpless. Useless. God, I couldn’t save him. Protect him.
I bang again, but I’m emotionally drained and my hand slides down the wood to my side. “God, please—”
“Hey.” The voice comes from the other side of the door. “You okay in there?”
“Hello? Yes, please! I’m okay, but . . . I’m locked in.” I try to school my voice, but the terror is unmistakable even to my own ears.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You’ll be okay. I’ll get you out.”
My body turns to stone. Rex.
The handle wiggles but doesn’t budge. “Um, shit. Let me grab Mario.”
“No!” I press my palms to the door and lean my forehead against it. The thought of being left alone in here for another second . . . I can’t. “Don’t go.”
Silence . . . Shit. Did he leave? My scalp tingles and my palms sweat.
“Mac?” His voice is soft and close, as if he’s pressed up to the other side of the door as I am.
Just the sound of his voice calms me. I take a deep breath. “Yeah.”
More silence.
“It’s okay. I won’t leave you.” His voice is firm and soothing.
My heart seizes at his words. How familiar this is, being separated by a door and whispering words to console the fears. Does he remember? Is he riding the same déjà vu?
“Mac, do you have a key in there with you?” His voice is still soft, but now determined.
“Yes.”
“Can you slide it to me under the door?”
I don’t answer him with words but instead glide down the door to the crack at the bottom. And just like when we were kids, I press my cheek to the floor, looking through the crack. I see the white toes of his Chuck Taylors, and I feel the loss at not seeing his eyes. I push the key through the crack of the door, and his feet step back.
Time slows to a crawl as he reaches for the keys.
Our fingers meet.
Then still.
Skin touches skin beneath the door and something happens.
Neither of us move.
I can’t see him, but an urgency to connect with him pushes one word to my throat.
“Rex . . .”
*
Rex
Exactly like my dream.
I’m separated from someone important, wanting so badly to remove the barrier between us, but knowing it’s impossible. Hands braced together through a space that’s so small and yet feels like something bigger than my heart can take.
“Rex . . .”
My breath hitches. The way she says my name, sadness dripping off the word, makes her sound so young and helpless. So familiar and yet . . . not.
I stare at the space where our fingers are connected. Dark purple painted nails accentuate her pale skin.
“It’s okay.” Those two simple words reverberate in my head like a gong. It’s okay. The urge to lay my cheek against the cold floor and try to see her is overwhelming. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Again, the words feel as if they’ve been spoken before, but when?
Reluctantly, I let go of her fingers and stand. With a turn of the key, the door swings open. Mac is sitting on the floor, her knees tucked in and arms wrapped tight around them. She tilts her head back to look at me. Pain and confusion work behind her eyes.
“You okay?”
“Better now,” she whispers.
Bright light flares behind my eyes, and I see her: the flaming-orange hair, gray eyes, and pale skin. Before I can grab the vision and store it in my memory, it’s gone. I close my eyes, searching for it, begging to get it back, but it’s like trying to hold onto vapor.
“Holy shit.” I lean back against the doorframe and rub my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Mac’s voice is close. “All the color drained from your face. Here”—her small hands grip my arm—“you need to sit down.”
“No, really. I’m good.” I wave her off and breathe through the feeling that I’m going to pass out. “I just need a second. Think I stood up too fast or something.”
Or something.
“Oh, right.” She backs away. “Take your time.”