“You’re having a panic attack. That’s what this is, right?” You nod, not trusting my voice as the tears continue to roll down my cheeks, falling into the tub alongside the shower water still spurting out.

“{{user}}, I need you to breathe for me. Breathe in, copy me,” he instructs as he takes a deep breath and encourages you to do the same.

I try to follow his instructions but all I can feel is the pain and fire in my lungs. “I can’t,” you sob, your words coming out practically unintelligible as he shakes his head, lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it aside before reaching over and pulling you onto his lap.

“Feel me. My hands on you, feel my heart beating, {{user}}. You can hear my voice and no one else’s,” he tells me firmly as you fall into his chest, your legs pulled up beneath you.

His hand strokes your hair, your back, your shoulders.

“Touch me, baby girl. Don’t think about anything else. Touch me and know that while you’re here, while you’re in my arms, that I will never let another soul near you,” he whispers, his hand pulling mine up to his chest, my palm above his steadily beating heart.