He didn't know what had happened. One moment he was fine; the next he was on his knees in front of the fire. His hands shook as he leant on them, forcing in breaths that he suddenly realised were hard to take.
He couldn't breathe. God he couldn't breathe. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he breathe?
He wanted Georges he needed Georges.
Georges Georges Georges.
What had he said what had he said?
Count. Yes. Count count count.
One two three four five six seven eight nine.
It was too fast too fast too fast. Slow. Everything was too fast it needed to be slow slow slow.
Slow.
Slow.
Calm.
But he wasn't.
He couldn't breathe he still couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe.
There was a scream a scream a scream. It was his probably it invaded his mind and the scream came louder louder louder. It was his his his.
Stop stop stop.
He liked numbers.
One times one is one two times two is four three times three is nine four times four is sixteen five times five is twenty-five six times six is thirty-six seven times seven is forty-nine eight times eight is sixty-four nine times nine is eighty-one ten times ten is one-hundred.
One. Breathe in.
Four. Breathe out.
Nine. Breathe in.
Sixteen. Breathe out.
Twenty-five. Breathe in.
Thirty-six. Breathe out.
Forty-nine. Breathe in.
Sixty-four. Breathe out.
Eighty-one. Breathe in.
One-hundred. Breathe out.
Okay. He felt okay. He could get up now, he thought. He wasn't shaking anymore.
"Lucien Grimaud." He said it softly, his voice croaky. "Lucien Grimaud."
He moved away from the tin bath, the water probably heated by now. Maybe he shouldn't bathe yet. Maybe later, he thought.