Slowly But Surely

4, 7, 8.

Warning: blood.

AN; Miss me?

It feels as if he's in a bath of pins and needles. He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, tearing skin. He could feel the spreading of metallic liquid in his mouth as it piled up into a small pool. He choked, coughing it up onto the floor infront of him. He could faintly hear commotion around him as he felt the blood trickle down his chin. The pain was dulled in his mouth, as if it just felt like hot water.

The liquid resumed to pour down his face, though he felt nothing. Only the painful ringing his his ears and the pins and needles surging through his arms and legs, a pit deep in his stomach. His entire face just felt numb. A steady beat thumped in his chest. He found comfort in the formality. His breathing matched the metronomic beating, slow and paced.

He was odly calm. He stared straight ahead, barely blinking. He found a rythm and he followed it. It has all he could do, as he had no control over his limbs. It's like they were asleep. He couldn't even curl a fist.

The room that encompassed him became a mixture of too bright and too dark, the ringing on his hypersensitive ears seemingly coming from all direction. Like they were coming from the walls. He stared dull-ly at the ceiling as he saw the rowdiness of panic across the suffocating room but he didnt react. He body ached yet at the same time felt nothing. His finger twitched and along with it came the feeling of though it has lagged, it being clearly on the ground, still felt like it was suspended in the air, fuzzy and hot.

Breathing came easy, though, as that's all he was doing. Breathing and thinking. The screaming and countless rapid thoughts buzzing and bouncing around in his brain meekly drowned out the outside world, though he was now aware he was there. The high and adrenaline of the panic attack was coming down, but the effects were still rampaging this body.

He felt the blood stop accumulating in his mouth, a few last drops dripping onto the pool of metallic red coloring the floor boards Oh. He felt the floorboards. He was aware of what he was laying on. Somehow between the shift of consciousness and unconsciousness he must have transitioned from off of his soft bed onto the uncomfortable faux wood.

The ringing in his ears all but vanquished, though he could still hear disperse among the other people in the room. He took another steady breath and started to count. 4, 7, 8. He focused on what day he though it was, and what time. Slowly the ringing began to relinquish its painful blurring. And the room faded from a mirage of blacks and greys to pastel color.