Listen to My Voice

The Moment Everything Shifted

Angelina knew something was wrong the moment Diesel’s eyes changed.

It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t a joke.

It was fear.

Real, bone-deep, heart-pounding fear.

“Diesel,” she said softly at first, trying to keep her tone light. “You’re scaring me right now.”

He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring past her. Past the walls. Past the room.

“They’re trying to get me.”

The words dropped heavy between them.

This Isn’t a Joke

“Ain’t nobody trying to get you,” she said quickly, forcing a small laugh. “Are you trying to prank me? Come on now, babe. You joke all the time.”

“I ain’t going to let them get me.”

His jaw was tight. His shoulders were stiff, like he was bracing for something invisible.

Angelina’s smile faded.

This wasn’t a prank.

This was panic.

Coming Down to His Level

“Okay,” she said gently, shifting her weight. “I’m just going to come down there with you. It’s okay. I’m going to sit right here.”

Slow movements. Calm voice. No sudden gestures.

She lowered herself beside him on the floor, close enough for him to feel her warmth but not so close that he’d feel trapped.

“Diesel… you’re really scaring me right now.”

“Nobody’s going to get you,” she added, softer this time. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“They want to get me so bad.”

Trying to Understand His Reality

“Did you do something to someone?” she asked cautiously. “Why would someone be looking for you?”

He blinked rapidly, breathing hard.

“You tried to get me before.”

Her heart cracked a little.

“Babe… look at me.”

He didn’t.

Grounding Him

“Listen to my voice,” she whispered, leaning slightly closer. “Just my voice.”

His breathing was uneven now. Fast. Shallow.

“Okay,” she said steadily. “I need you to breathe in through your nose… and out through your mouth.”

She exaggerated her own breathing so he could hear it.

“Look around this room,” she continued gently. “Open your eyes and look. Look at the chair. You sit in that chair every day. Look at the TV. Look at the wall. You’re here. You’re home.”

“I ain’t going to let them get me,” he repeated.

“You don’t have to fight anyone right now,” she said. “You’re safe.”

The Fear Feels Real

“They wear uniforms,” he muttered.

“What would they be wearing?” she asked carefully. “Tell me what you’re seeing.”

“They tried before.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she stayed steady.

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m right here. Nobody’s taking you from me.”

He looked at her — but not with recognition.

With suspicion.

Suspicion Turns Inward

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” she said quickly, hands open. “I’m just sitting here with you.”

“You can track me through the phone.”

“I didn’t know anybody could track you through the phone,” she replied gently. “But right now, we’re just sitting together.”

“He could trap me.”

“Who could trap you?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

Holding the Line

“Okay,” she whispered. “Maybe we call someone. Maybe we call Patty.”

“Listen to who?” he snapped.

“Just… me,” she said quietly. “Just listen to me.”

His breathing spiked again.

PTSD. That’s what this was. She knew it now.

Not drama. Not attention.

Trauma.

Stay With Me

“Diesel, I need you to look at my face. Just look at my face.”

His eyes flickered toward her.

“That’s it,” she said quickly. “Stay right there. Stay with me.”

She placed her hand gently on the floor between them — not touching him yet. Giving him the choice.

“You’re in this room. You’re with me. It’s just us. No uniforms. No one outside. No one coming through that door.”

“They’re watching.”

“It feels like they’re watching,” she acknowledged. “But right now, I see a couch. I see a lamp. I see your shoes by the door.”

Bringing Him Back

“Feel the floor under your hands,” she instructed softly. “Press your palm down. Feel how solid it is.”

He hesitated — then pressed his hand down.

“That’s real,” she said gently. “The floor is real. This room is real. I’m real.”

His breathing slowed slightly.

“Say my name,” she whispered.

He didn’t.

But he was more present.

She slowly touched his wrist.

“I’m right here.”

He flinched — but didn’t pull away.

Love in the Middle of Fear

The storm in his eyes didn’t disappear.

But it flickered.

And for now, that was enough.

Angelina exhaled slowly.

“Just stay with my voice,” she whispered again. “Just stay with me.”

Because sometimes love isn’t loud.

Sometimes it’s just a steady voice in the dark, saying:

You’re safe.
You’re here.
I’m not going anywhere.