What am I doing? More images hit, along with feelings that make my stomach twist with a violent dread. The fear. The panic. The desperate scramble to escape the numbness as my own body got the best of me, took away my very breath and left me fighting just to stay conscious. I’m still fighting. I’m acting on instinct, on survival skills, doing anything to mitigate the threat. He’s the threat. He’s the threat, so I went with him. I did what was expected of me because that’s the only way I’ve ever been able to handle the threat before. I’m on autopilot, and this is where it leads me.
