The inside of a box

trigger warning – description of a panic attack

Day 18 – Trap

Hello beautiful people. This is a story that I wanted to write because mental health is something that is never taken seriously in so many situations. A panic attack is not something to be taken lightly even though it is not a disease. Panic attacks are not something to be made fun of, because it is something even you could possibly have, though I wish you never do.

I would highly appreciate if you give it a read if the subject is not a trigger for you. Also, all the description of the panic attack I have described is based off on pure research. I do not want to spread any false information so if I have mentioned anything wrong please do correct me. I'll be continuing this story in the next prompt because it was becoming too long to accommodate as one for this one. I hope you enjoy and learn something new :heart:

#prosaicwhisperer

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"Breathe", the word echoed in my mind like a gunshot. My eyes had lost their focus and my breathing was becoming shallower with every ing second. It felt like someone was holding me by my neck and threatening my life, even though I knew somewhere deep inside my mind that I was sitting on the floor of my brother's room.

I could feel my body shivering, as stifled sobs wrung my entire body and I could feel an intense fear building inside my throat making it feel sandy and grainy.

I could feel my vision go blurry as an intense heat crept up my face, my body becoming even more hot, so much so, it felt like I was sitting inside our fireplace. I thought, this was it. This was how I was going to die. And with that thought came so many regrets and even more fear.

As the intense feelings gripped my entire body into an inescapable trap, making me want to curl up into a ball and disappear into thin air, I felt two placid arms carefully embrace my shivering body. They went around me with such delicacy, as if afraid I would break any second.

Some familiar voice started sounding more clear to my ears, as I heard the words breathe again. Someone was talking to me, but in my distorted state it was hard to tell who it was. I focused on the voice, whatever little focus was left, I focused everything on that voice.

"Take deep breaths in", I did as the voice instructed me.

"Now release the deep breath out", I followed, because if it meant I would live again then I was ready to do everything.

The voice kept repeating the same command again and again, and mindlessly I followed, because I just wanted my body back already. I did not want to die, not so early.

Several minutes ed, it felt like centuries, but my breathing finally returned to normal, my eyes were still glossy from all the tears that escaped them, my throat craving water like a parched desert and my body felt like it had suffered a plethora of illnesses all at once. I was sweaty all over and even though I did not feel that hot anymore, I could still tell my temperature had not turned to normal.

When it finally felt like I could breathe again, the massive weight lifted off my chest, my vision became less blurry. The earlier distortion now fading away like fog. I could finally find the source of the voice, the voice that had bought me back from the clutches of satan. It was my brother, the one who loved me to bits and pieces, the one whose face now looked as if he had seen someone die and come back to life. But, that was just how I felt.

When my mind stopped buzzing with alarms and I felt completely normal, a wave of embarrassment and a new fear gripped my insides with such sheer force that I wanted to puke right on that spot.

I pointed my eyes towards the floor, the checkered floor of white and black squares, hiding my eyes away from the judgement and disappointment I knew I would see if I dared to look up. My heart battled, whispering to me that my brother would be different, he might not tell me I am insane and needed to be locked up. He might not make light of it, and it on as if I had just sneezed. He just might know that this was not a disease and I was not a monster.

But as always, my wretched brain, the one that plotted my misery day and night overpowered my heart and said in its euphemistic voice that why would he be different. He was also the offspring of the same parents. I was the different one. The one who had no qualities. The one that should have not been born.

I kept staring at the floor with all these mind boggling thoughts, wishing for the floor to just swallow me. I was just about to get up and make a run for the door, when a hand touched my chin. The hand tilted my face up, fighting the resistance my body was putting, but failing miserably at. And so, I gave in and looked up. To see the judgement and pity from the only person I thought understood me. From the only person whose opinion mattered to me.

But, I would have never been prepared to witness just what was waiting at the other side. As my hazel eyes focused into a pair of charcoal ones, I felt the air gasping around me, the floor shifting underneath me. Looking at me, were two gravelly charcoal eyes, that held bundles of concern laced by plenty of acceptance. I looked, like a deer searching for its hunter, I looked for even a speck of judgement, disappointment and fury in those eyes. But, to my surprise I found none.

That was when my whole body collapsed. I hugged the human sitting in front of me, the brother who had promised to always love me no matter what I do. I hugged him as if my life depended on it and I hugged him until all the tears that I had locked in a box whose key had been thrown away, the box that had burst open, finally shed everything inside it and became lightweight again.

I just hugged him and sobbed. I cried for all the hugs I never got, for all the eyes that pried whenever I broke down the same way I did today, for all the questioning glances filled with curiosity and pity that had filled my photographic memory.

And he just sat there like my personal pillow, tucking me away in his embrace that was scented of warmth and love as I cried my heart out and messed up his shirt.

When I finally felt like I could actually breathe again after crying for what felt like an hour, I detached myself from the koala position I was in now currently, and wiped away the snot and tears. He helped me get myself clean and then we settled on his couch from the floor. I made a note in my brain why people invented couches then. Floors are so not crying material.

"Hey, Rose, do you want to tell me something?", he enquired in his usual caring tone. I wondered how he did not date when he was this sweet. Gosh, the people surrounding him must not have good taste.

I battled my eyelashes at him as a tiny smile crept up at my lips and answered in a sing-song way, "No pumpkin, is there anything in particular you would like to know?"

Yes, I was trying to avoid and escape the situation. I did not want to tell my brother that I was a boy who could not even take care of himself. And after I just broke down in front of him it was better to just keep my mouth shut. What if he got annoyed at me? What if he decided that I was in-fact not worth it?

As those worries swirled around in my mind, I completely ignored just what I did. When I looked up, I could see little droplets formed at his eyes as he looked at me with a look that I couldn't decipher. But, it made me feel like I had committed a huge sin.