My first short story, written after a particularly traumatic event (which I later learned was a panic attack... the first of many to come). What do you guys think?
PANIC
The party wound down and all the guests started to leave. Reaching for their coats, saying their thank-you’s, and promising to see each other again soon, they walked out the door and into the unseasonably cold October night. She had been drinking already, but at that time of night everyone was so tired that nobody noticed. In any case, the two friends she had brought with her were the only ones who could tell that she was at least a little off. Something wasn’t right that night– when asked, she’d put on a smile and say that everything was fine, but she knew it wasn’t. There was a reason she’d been so eager to drink.
The whole way home, she snapped at everyone. Her friends told her she was acting bitchy, but she didn’t care. She wanted to have fun and this just wasn’t enough. She’d been getting crap from her mother all weekend, and all she wanted was to forget it all and let go for the night. That’s when she asked for the pot. By that time, her friends were almost as eager as she was to smoke, only because they thought she’d mellow out and hopefully wouldn’t bitch and whine at them anymore. For a while it seemed to be working– with every hit she took, she felt looser and more relaxed.
The bong came to her again. She lit up. She sucked in–and couldn’t exhale. She dropped the bong and stepped back, waving her arms wildly in front of her. Her friends were confused. They asked her if she was okay. She tried to respond but no words came out. She didn’t understand what was happening to her. Why couldn’t she catch her breath?
She motioned toward the door and, finally finding her voice, said she needed to go outside– where the air was. She asked for her sweatshirt and together, she, her two friends, and her sister walked to the playground on the next block. The whole way there, her sister and friend Mary kept asking what was happening and if she was going to be okay. She didn’t know. Her friend Peter didn’t understand what was happening either, but he managed to stay the calmest of the four of them. He tried to calm the others down, while she struggled to breathe or make sense of what was happening to her. When they got to the park, she decided that as long as she was moving, she was okay. Like a fish in a bowl– just keep swimming, fight the urge to float to the surface. Though she did almost let go a few times.
As she walked around the park in circles, she thought. It was strange. She would look down at her hands and see them shake, and that was how she knew she was cold. And then she’d gasp for air. It was as though she really had to concentrate on breathing... in and out, in and out. Her mouth was dry and her hands were numb, but she didn’t feel a thing. All she knew was that she had to keep breathing. So that’s what she did.
While all this was going on, thousands of thoughts were running through her mind. She thought of her sister, and how panicked she must be. She turned to face the girl, but couldn’t find the words to say to make her less afraid. She turned her thoughts then to her mother, and all she could think of was how disappointed her mother would be that she was doing drugs. Then she considered how upset her mother would be with her sister, especially if anything bad were to happen....
Her mind turned then to death. She felt that it was near, and though she was scared, she wasn’t nearly as hysterical as she thought she’d be. More than anything, she wanted to make sure that the others were okay. She wanted to give Mary a hug, dry her sister’s tears, and tell Peter that she was sorry. That was all she could do–apologize. For not being able to handle the pot, for almost getting the others in trouble, and for potentially causing them so much pain. It wasn’t fair for them to have to deal with this. So all she could feel was regret.
She started to speak with God. She asked whether this was it. She wondered what was so different about this time, and she apologized for causing all of this. She asked God to take care of her family, and to help them to be strong. Her mother had been through enough for her years and lost enough loved ones for one lifetime. And she didn’t deserve this. Not tonight. She asked God what she should do, where she should turn, and how she could be okay. Seemingly moments later, an answer came to her. It had the voice of reason. It was Peter.
He told her that they should go to bed. She didn’t know if he was right, but somehow she felt that if she did, everything would be okay. She let him lead her home. She walked slowly up the stairs, struggling for air all the while. After what seemed like an eternity, she was back at her bedroom. Back where it all began. Feelings came flooding back. She choked. He held her and calmed her down. Slowly, she began to be able to breathe again. Not well, but well enough. She got into bed and looked around. She knew it would be difficult to sleep. She also knew that she wouldn’t be able to do this alone. She asked Peter to come stay with her. He told her he would. Mary and her sister went to bed. Peter turned out the light.
There in the dark of her room, she tried again to make sense of it all. She asked him what was happening to her. He said he didn’t know. It was then that she realized he was crying. She couldn’t handle that. He needed to be strong. He couldn’t be worried. She was supposed to be okay. She was only eighteen. She was supposed to live a long, healthy life and raise a family and see the world. It couldn’t be over. One stupid mistake couldn’t be the end of all that.
She asked him if he was scared. He told her of course he was. She asked him what he was afraid of. He told her that he loved her and didn’t want to lose her. She told him she loved him and didn’t want him to be sad. She was cold, and somehow she knew that he was the only one who could keep her warm. She told him this, and he held her. Hearing his breathing helped her to relax. Her breathing got better. Not good, but better. She was still scared, but for some reason that was alright. She could deal with it all as long as he stayed with her.
She asked him, a few minutes later, how he knew what to do. He told her he didn’t–- but he prayed to God, and somehow knew that this was what they were supposed to do. She was fine with that. Some time passed. Seconds, minutes, hours, nobody would have known. She asked him is he would stay awake until she fell asleep... just in case... to make sure she was still breathing alright. He looked at her and told her of course he would. She looked back at him and told him again that she loved him. She told him that she trusted him completely, because he was her guardian angel. Then she told him that he was the best best friend that a person could ever have. He started to cry again. But these weren’t sad tears. They were different. They were tears of happiness, of concern, of friendship. Of love. She kissed his tears. And then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Hours later, or at least what seemed like hours, she woke up and looked at him. She saw two eyes looking back at her. She asked him if he had gone to sleep at all. He said he had. They just happened to have woken up at the exact same time. She thought back to what had happened. She realized that she could breathe again. He seemed to have the same thought at the same time. They smiled at each other. And then they slept.
