Panic Attack Read Online Free PDF

the press. Instead he felt like he had when Clements was questioning him, like the reporters were trying to put him on the spot, trying to draw out some hidden truth that didn’t exist.
But he remained out there for a half hour or longer, fielding every question the reporters asked him calmly and politely. He used the techniques he sometimes suggested to his patients— focusing on his breathing, speaking from his chest rather than his throat— and gradually he felt more relaxed, almost normal. When the reporters were out of questions, he thanked them for their time and went back into the house.
three
    When Marissa heard the gunshots, she was convinced her father was dead. God, it had been so stupid to go out there with the gun and start shooting, what the hell had he been thinking? But that was just the way her dad was— when he made his mind up to do something he got totally possessed.
    Hiding in the closet with her mother, Marissa had started to scream, but her mom put a hand over her mouth, shutting her up, and said, “Shh.”
She could tell how angry her mother was about the gun, too. It had all happened so fast, there was nothing either of them could do to stop him.
The gunfire ended very quickly— it seemed to last for only a few seconds— and the house was silent.
Her mom said, “Wait here,” and went to see what was going on. Marissa, afraid her mother would get shot, too, went to try to stop her, but then they saw her dad standing there at the top of the landing, holding the gun. He looked so terrified and panicked, and then he lost it and shouted for her and her mom to get back to the bedroom.
A few minutes later, he joined them.
“Did you kill him?” her mom asked.
“Yes,” her dad said.
“Is he dead?”
Her dad swallowed, clearing his throat, then said, “Yes, he’s dead.”
When the police arrived, her dad went down to talk to them and explain what had happened. Then they heard more sirens, and more cops arrived. Marissa and her mom stayed upstairs for a while longer, talking to some cop who grossed her out the way he kept smiling at her and checking out her boobs; then they took the back staircase downstairs. On her way past the main staircase, Marissa took a peek over her shoulder, looking down toward the bottom of the stairwell, and saw the blood and one of the guy’s legs— his jeans and a black high- top sneaker. God, this was so fucked up.
Downstairs, a cop took Marissa and her mom into the living room and asked them questions. Her mom was much more together than she was, or least she seemed more together. She was able to describe everything that had happened, but when Marissa spoke it was hard to keep her thoughts or ganized, and she thought she sounded scattered.
After what seemed like forever her dad came into the living room and said, “How’re you guys doing? You two okay?”
She could tell he was trying to put up a front. He was trying to take charge, be Mr. Strong, Mr. In Control, but he had never been as in touch with his emotions as he thought he was. Just because he was a shrink didn’t mean that he wasn’t as screwed up as the rest of the world. She could tell that inside he was terrified, a total mess. She felt sorry for him, but she also knew that he’d gotten himself into this situation. No one had made him get that gun. No one had made him pull the trigger.
“A detective just got here,” her dad said. “He’s gonna want to ask us some questions.” He sounded removed deadpan.
“Are you okay?” her mom asked her dad. She was obviously furious but trying to restrain it.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” her dad said. Then, without emotion, he added, “So they didn’t find a gun.”
Now her mom was raging, seething. Her dad seemed oblivious, but how could he be? It was so obvious.
“Are they sure?” she asked.
“Yeah,” her dad said, “but it’s not my fault. I saw him reach for something. What was I supposed to do?”
She could tell he wanted reassurance, but there was no way he was going to