Kingdom Come Undone

Shade of Blue - Part 1

A/N: Posting a day early because I posted late in the day on Thursday.

I intended on heading back to Baltimore while Alison was at church. We said our goodbyes before she had left that morning, but the moment she walked out the door, a sickening feeling hit my gut. Despite what I reassured Alison of in the days before, realizing that I had actually been left behind sent me into a tailspin. My issues with Thursday's conversation hadn't actually been discussed. My anger about the situation had, but not everything else involved. I understood that Alison didn't want to be put in the middle of Carter and me again. I respected that. But as I reflected back on it all, I resented the fact that I was left in the cold. By not being given a warning of the call in the first place. By being told that my opinion mattered but not having my opinion ever heard. By being made to come to the rescue on Thursday instead of being rescued. And as I kept thinking about the things I was missing in these few hours because of a man I didn't respect, the more irritated I became.

Pacing behind Alison's couch became my new comfort zone. Picking at my thumbs my newest habit. Biting my lips my newest fixation.

While medication for my OCD worked 99% of the time, in times of high anxiety, compulsive tendencies reemerged. In childhood, counting my steps reigned supreme. At any point in time, if you asked me what step I was on from here to there, I knew the number. 313. 87. 1,432. In young adulthood, counting calories overtook. Control in the form individual allowance easily hidden by a swimming career. And now in adulthood, I obsessed over the finite intricacies of my job. The specificity needed to split whole blood from plasma in a sample. The exact field criteria needed for microscopic examination of tissue. But without either of those fixation tools at my disposal, compulsivity easily took charge in its attempts to calm me down.

Another common result of my OCD though was mind swarming. Similar to a panic attack, but instead of actual bodily symptoms, my mind instead felt like dozens of moths had been released inside. No idea sticking for too long but having too many ideas to stick to one. No solutions able to be sorted through because not even the problem was clear. But with so much to obsess over, time passes rapidly. To me, time appears to stop, giving me the needed seconds to delegate and come to terms with the mind swarm. But in reality, I stop as the world around me keeps spinning. Fixating instead on the pacing, the picking of my thumbs, and biting my lips. Not the issue at hand. Not the fact that I was meant to be heading back to Baltimore. Not the fact that I hadn't moved since Alison left me here.

Time stood still until I heard Alison's voice in the recesses of my mind. "I'm not sure why her car is still here, Bug. Can you let me go in first? Wait in the garage for a minute." Her heels hit the tile, feeling repeated stabs into the field of moths. But I was still stuck. "Emily? Emmy? Oh, there you are. Wait. Why are you still in your pj's? Are you?" She paused, looking behind her probably due to my intense stare going right through her line of sight. "Baby?" I felt her hands on my shoulders as she stepped back and forth, right to left trying to get my attention.

"Mommy, can I come in now?"

"No, Jake. Wait two more minutes." Her head shot back at me, "Emily? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

The light shaking of my shoulders caused me to make eye contact. I shook my head out, "Yeah, what? What's going on?"

"Well, that's what I'm asking you. Shouldn't you be in Baltimore by now?"

"What time is it?"

Alison's eyes looked confused and desperate, "It's after two, Em. What is happening?"

"Oh God." My brain started panicking, piecing together the lost time. I looked at the carpeting beneath my feet indicating the detailed dent extending across the 7-foot length of her living room.