When Panic Struck

Her heart starts racing. Her chest begins to feel warm. It feels like it’s going to collapse. She grabs her keys, and begins to walk. Next thing she knows, she is in the parking lot. She searches desperately for the car with the white palmetto sticker. For once she finds it she can escape. She unlocks the door. In the blink of an eye she is speeding away. Heart still pounding. Her breathing accelerating by the second. She needs to disappear. If only for an hour. She needs to be as isolated as she feels. The sign reads forty. Her speedometer reads eighty. Not even thinking, she turns the wheel. It doesn’t require much thought because it is second nature. She is going to the hill, for it is where she often finds herself in the darkest of times. As she drives on the deserted road she is jerking the wheel so that it will hit one of the many trees. Just as the car starts to swerve it straightens back out. She is too big a coward. Once she reaches the hill, the ignition turns off. The lights go out, leaving nothing besides the darkness of the night. The emotional hurt needs to stop. But there is no alcohol. And there are no little white pills. She falls out of the driver’s seat and crawls as far as she can. Her finger touches the back of her throat. But nothing happens. She tries again. Nothing. Panic strikes. She stumbles back into her car to escape from the cold midnight air. Her nails paint that pretty red picture she loves. A nice scratch etched on her forearm. It is not enough. She claws at her chest. Still not enough. Where is a blank slate? She gazes down at her left thigh. The once smooth and untouched surface is now tainted. She looks at what has been humming the whole time. Six missed calls. Why was he calling? Surely he didn’t care. She sends a message, and hears back almost instantly. He wants her home. He wants to know where she is. But she does not tell. He just wants her safe. He wants her in his arms. The headlights shine bright. The engine turns on. She is still speeding, but she is going home. Upon her return, she finds herself not able to see him. But her breathing is still heavy. Her chest still feels like it’s caving in. She is wishing she had done the unthinkable. Now she is shaking. It feels as if the entire world is spinning and the urge to drive away comes back. She stands at his front door, praying he will be there like he promised. He wants her to leave so she will be protected. Protected from what? Him. Tears fill her eyes. Her entire body is pulsating. She knows what she will do if he does not invite her into his arms. Silence lingers between the two for what feels like an eternity. He finally gives in. Her jacket and shoes come off. She sits in the darkness. The emotions pour out. She feels ashamed. He stands in front of her and she is wishing she could see his face. But even if the room was lit she wouldn’t see him because her head hangs too low. Suddenly she feels him placing her body on his bed. She feels his warmth next to her. She tries to roll away because she is too humiliated. But his arms envelop her, and she begins to cry even more. He whispers to her that it’s going to be ok. He is happy she is safe. He is happy she is in his arms. For the first time in two weeks, she sleeps comfortably.