I stir awake but I am too wimpy to move because strong arms were wrapped around me in a tight hold like steel. My body feels warm too with no amount of cold like I felt earlier. And it all makes my recent breakdown all a dream, but the sore feeling at my side told me that it wasn't. It was a vivid memory of what transpired when the panic got too much and I searched for comfort as I clawed at my own skin. I thought that was something I had overcome but it came back at such a cruel time. It only makes me feel more shitty about myself. I hated it when it got too far, too deep, and before I knew it I was marking my skin.
"I'm here," his voice said to my ear, soft and deep. But it sounds far away in my sense and I was too weak to register anything. I squeezed my eyes shut before forcing them open again, steam clouded around my vision, from the hot water we were both soaked in.
