Episode 69: Stay Still (Flashback – Complete)

Something is wrong.

I can’t identify it precisely.

That’s the problem.

My thoughts are too loud.

Too fast.

Looping. Repeating.

Work. Deadlines. Mistakes.

Health. Risk. Failure.

Noise.

I sit on the floor.

Back against the wall.

Mask still on. Gloves still on.

Breathing is… uneven.

This is inefficient.

“…Beckett.”

Her voice.

I don’t respond.

“…Beckett.”

Closer now.

I still don’t respond.

Then—

Her hand touches my chin.

Light.

Precise.

Tilts my head upward slightly.

“…Look at me.”

I don’t.

“…That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Pause.

I shift. Slightly.

Enough.

“…Good,” she murmurs.

Her other hand adjusts my mask.

Not removing it.

Never removing it.

“…Breathe properly,” she says.

“…I am breathing.”

“…Incorrectly.”

She places her hand lightly against my chest.

“…Follow my rhythm.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

I match it.

Slowly.

The noise dulls.

“…Better,” she says softly.

I close my eyes briefly.

“…You’re spiraling,” she continues.

“…I know.”

“…Then stop.”

“…I can’t.”

Pause.

Her hand returns to my chin.

Tilts again.

“…Yes, you can.”

Firm.

Certain.

“…Focus on me.”

I do.

Because it’s easier than focusing on everything else.

“…Good,” she says.

Her thumb brushes lightly near the edge of my mask.

Grounding.

“…You think too far ahead,” she murmurs.

“…It’s necessary.”

“…It’s excessive.”

Pause.

“…Stay here,” she says.

“…Here?”

“…With me. Not in your head.”

Silence.

I try.

The noise pushes back.

She notices. Of course she does.

Her hand moves to the back of my head.

Pulls me forward slightly—

Not forceful.

Not sudden.

Controlled.

I lean against her.

System conflict.

Then—

Stillness.

“…There,” she murmurs.

Her hand remains steady.

Holding. Grounding.

“…You don’t have to process everything at once.”

“…I know.”

“…Then act like it.”

Pause.

“…Okay.”

The word comes easier this time.

We stay like that.

No rush.

No pressure.

Just… quiet.

My breathing evens out.

My thoughts slow.

The noise fades into something manageable.

“…Better?” she asks.

“…Yes.”

She doesn’t move immediately.

“…Good,” she says softly.

Her hand lingers for a moment longer—

Then she pulls back slightly.

Not fully.

Just enough.

“…Next time,” she says,
“…you call me before it gets this bad.”

“…Understood.”

“…Say it properly.”

Pause.

“…I will.”

She nods once.

Satisfied.

“…Good.”

And just like that—

The spiral ends.

Not because I stopped it.

But because she did.

And for once—

I didn’t fight it.