But Not For Lust BJ Bourg (top novels to read txt) 📖

“You little prick!” Amy reached for the latch on the window, but before she could unlock it, something smashed loudly into the glass. She let out a screech and threw herself backward. When her weight landed on her left leg, she grunted in pain and collapsed to the ground. She gasped as pain shot through her leg and images of broken glass and spraying bullets flashed in her mind like strobe lights in the darkness.

Amy scrambled back until she slammed into the wall. She pulled herself to a seated position and sat there trying to catch her breath, staring wildly about. Her stomach was tight. Sharp pain radiated from her chest to her arm. Her hands trembled. She was sweating profusely.

“God, I’m having a heart attack!” she said, fighting to catch a breath. She clutched at her chest. She’d never experienced anything like this. An intense feeling of foreboding swept over her. She felt as though she were dying.

As the smothering sensation swept over her, she remembered her psychologist talking about these same symptoms and how to counteract them with breathing exercises. She desperately tried to remember every word the psychologist had said. She began clumsily employing the breathing exercises now. At first it was hard to control her breathing, but Amy was a strong and resilient woman, and she was soon breathing smoothly again. Within minutes, her heart began to slow to a normal rate. She wiped sweat from her face and sank against the wall.

“Why is this happening?” she asked out loud. She had been in traumatic situations before. Had been involved in shootings before—had even taken a human life in the line of duty. Why was this incident so different? What was it about that night that haunted her so bad? Sure, it was the closest she’d ever come to dying—and she wasn’t even married yet—but that couldn’t be it.

Amy pulled herself slowly to her feet and hobbled to her desk. Reaching into her back pocket, she removed her phone and looked up her psychologist’s number. Dr. Kay White had told Amy to call her at anytime—day or night, weekend or weekday, holiday or not—if she needed to talk. And now seemed like a good time to take her up on that offer.

Amy waited nervously while the phone rang, Suddenly, she felt silly. She was about to end the call when Dr. White answered.

“Amy, hey, how are you?”

“Um, not good, Doc.” Amy leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I’m jittery as all hell. A bird just slammed into the window and I jumped like I was being shot at all over again. I started to have a panic attack.”

“That’s normal,” she said calmly. “You’ve been through a harrowing experience. Did you practice the breathing exercises I taught you?”

“Yeah, I did, and they worked.” Amy nodded to herself. Just hearing the soothing voice of Dr. White helped to calm her nerves. “Why do you think this situation is different from all of the others I’ve been through? I just don’t understand it. I’ve never been bothered by anything before, but I just can’t seem to shake this one.”

Dr. White began going over different reasons why she could’ve been affected by the trauma of this situation. She then began asking Amy some probing questions. Amy answered them as best and as honestly as she could.

They talked back and forth for almost forty-five minutes and Amy half expected Dr. White to cut her short and say that her time was up, but she didn’t. Amy was talking about things she didn’t even think were related, and she was learning that some of the anxiety she felt might be related to her new relationship with Baylor. After all, her last boyfriend had really done a number on her. Not only had it wrecked her confidence to a degree, but it had also made her distrust people in general, and men in particular.

Amy found it easy to talk to Dr. White. The woman possessed common sense and, during the few sessions Amy had already had with her, it had become clear that she had extensive experience working with cops. She understood cop humor and was not alarmed by it.

“So, we know that when you get behind the wheel of a car it evokes a strong response,” Dr. White said after they had talked for a few more moments. “What I’m going to do is have you begin to face that fear a little at a time. You know how you told me you worked to rehabilitate your left leg by gradually putting more and more weight on it until you could bear all of your weight on that one leg?”

“Yeah,” Amy said, realizing where the doctor was going with this.

“That’s what we’re going to do with the car. I’ll want you to begin by getting in the driver’s seat of your police car and then immediately exiting the car. The next time you get in, I’ll want you to sit there for thirty seconds. Each time after that, I’ll want you to double the time you spend sitting behind the wheel of the car.”

Dr. White took a breath and then continued. “Once you can sit there for thirty minutes without feeling anxious, I’ll want you to start up the car and build up to sitting there while it’s running for thirty minutes. And then you can gradually start driving, but I’ll want you to do this under Baylor’s watchful eye. I don’t want you to try this alone—just in case you need some encouragement.”

“Okay,” Amy said with a nod that Dr. White couldn’t see. “I can do that.”

After a momentary pause, Dr. White said, “Amy, it seems as though there’s something more on your mind.”

There was, but Amy didn’t know how to put it into words without sounding bad. She had