As soon as Tragos stepped into the bathroom, he pressed his back against the door, face tilted up toward the ceiling. With his hand on his throat, he could feel his heart beating, and when he pressed a little harder he could picture all the gristle beneath his hand. He knew how much a throat bled, he knew how fast.
It wasn’t a thing kids should know. He could handle it. He was an adult. But it wasn’t a thing kids should know. Watching Marcie hug Kaden, it was all too much. He had to step out and… stare at the ceiling for a while, apparently. Heart beating in his throat, heart beating up nerves in his stomach.
He told himself that this was just like the night before a fight, and that he had to stay calm, keep focused. Don’t think too far in the future, don’t entertain too many scenarios where you lose. Pick a winning strategy then stick to it. No backing down, no flinching, just victory. Then freedom. Then a new life. Then Marcie.
He could do this. Had to do this.
Tragos stayed in the bathroom till he could hear footsteps approaching the door. He took a deep breath, feeling his throat flex under his hand, and steadied himself before stepping back to pull the door open before she could knock. “Hey,” he said, looking over her shoulder toward the burrito of a brother on the couch before she drew his gaze back.