friday - april 9, 2021
𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧
𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗, 𝟐:𝟑𝟎𝐚𝐦
𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬
"It's okay, I'm right here, Ella," a nurse speaks reassuringly to me, her euphonious voice resounding merely weakly in the depth of my ears.
"I can't breathe," I whimper while tears sluice down my cheeks which are suffused with a vibrant shade of red.
Reality seems surreal in this present moment, just like in all these countless dreams I had about finding my way home.
My chest is panting and the insides of my body are visibly quivering,
a shockingly convincing sensation of death coursing through me.
"You're having a panic attack that will be over soon," Amila, the nurse crouching beside me, assures of more composed minutes ahead. "You're not going to die."
She's equable, yet her comforting words don't alleviate my panic.
"I feel so dizzy and nauseous," I whisper hastily and gasp for air as my heart pounds arrhythmically.
I try to leap to my feet but sink back down within seconds, since my legs aren't able to hold my weight up.
"You need to breathe with me," Amila articulates her idea coherently. "Can you give me your hands and focus on me?"
Although I'm ashamed of my palms being ice cold and revoltingly clammy from the sudden rush of panic, I lay them into her hands.
"Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, slowly," she counsels me to follow her instructions step by step; and I do exactly that.
Several minutes elapse until my breathing fortunately relaxes and the agonizing pain in my heart eases off, yet the quivering sensation in my thighs won't subside as easily.
"Let's get you some fresh air," the woman aside of me suggests and helps me rise to my feet again before walking me to the nearby window.
Previous to allowing a balmy breeze to flow into the sterile room and refill it with life, she picks up the glass of water from beside my bed.
"Where is she?" I mumble, haunching over my glass and letting my attention wander for a split second.
"Your mom?" the nurse asks, a questioning look furrowing her brows.
"Mh," I hum, turn to face Amila and nod absentmindedly as my eyes scan her ideal facial features.
"She's in the ICU," she informs me about the distressing news about my mom's physical well-being. "Her condition is very critical and quite hard to deal with."
"No," I whisper and shake my head vigorously, tears blurring my clear sight simultaneously.
"I'm so sorry, Ella," she talks under her breath. "She's not on life support, though, which is something fairly positive, and everyone's
doing their best, believe me."
"How much longer do you think.. she'll be here?" I'm curious about something I clearly should have avoided asking.
"Just spend the day with her today, okay?" Amila proposes a plan for the forthcoming hours in the afternoon.
And as she states that, my inner void bursts entirely.
The world begins spinning around me, but I won't let it reach the surface.
On the outside I remain calm, yet I'm merely a literal step away from losing my consciousness.
I'm about to collapse due to the grueling levels of mental suffering I've been battling against for the preceding years.
"I wish I could chat with you a little longer, especially now, but I've got to get back to work and care for some other patients," Amila earnestly apologizes to me.
"Oh, I'm.. I'm fine, don't worry," I assure her and show the person at the side of me a despairing smile masked with feigned contentment. "It's okay, really."
"Alright," she sighs, noticeably anguished. It is perhaps my mental welfare that disquiets her. "Sleep tight. I'll see you in the morning."
Her honeyed voice reverberates around the room one last time before she exists it and leaves me all by myself.
Thankfully, my dizziness diminishes rather quickly once my attention is diverted by the rain that starts to teem down from the sky far above Los Angeles.
Raindrops sluggishly slither down the filthy window, encouraging the gloomy atmosphere in this nightmarish building.
At least I'm fairly safe in here.
Nevertheless, I'm not shielded from my dismaying, murderous mental pictures.
There's that ungovernable urge to run away,
off into the void.
I then shift my gaze and dart my eyes at the murky sky and espy clouds as black as soot.
The weather is foul in the outer world.
The moon is invisible in this night of misery.
The inner flame of despair was relit,
and it is burning blindingly.
An idea, which I am candidly not amused about, strikes my head as I feel myself sinking deeper into my temptingly self-destructive thoughts, nevertheless, I can't resist it and thus take my phone out of my pocket swiftly.
I click on her contact and begin typing forthwith without any manner of hesitancy.
𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿🤍
𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂?
𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲
𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲
𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 2:52𝘢𝘮
In the past days she hasn't fallen asleep any earlier than three in the morning, hence I'm hopeful that she might reply to my message within the speed of light.
However, regret floods over me soon after sending the urgent message, that's why I apologize right away and deposit my phone on the tiny table beside me.
𝗻𝘃𝗺, 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝘁
𝗶'𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆
𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁
𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 2:55𝘢𝘮
Save Me - XXXTENTACION
⚡️
what's your home/your safe place? an actual place, a person, a feeling? something completely different?
YOU ARE READING
𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 | billie eilish
Fanfiction↳ « can you stay over tonight? » ─ 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 a girl of 16 years has been through various types of trauma. She appears secretive, cold-hearted and is seemingly unapproachable until the day she unexpectedly bumps into a girl with ceru...
