Left To Survive

VII

A/N: Warning!

This chapter contains panic attack

(skip if needed)

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1 March

8 AM

꧁ Yara ꧂

"Yara, your turn!" the teacher exclaimed. Some people in in the class turned their head to me as I took my paper and slowly got up from my chair. I think you're not surprised to hear that I absolutely hate presentations. Especially if it's about a stupid subject. I'm literally going to be talking about how to make a french quiche with bacon. Like what the actual fuck? I didn't sign up for this, okay, it was either the quiche or koalas. And I was not a fan of koalas either, so, here we are.

I was standing in front of the class, with my little paper in my hands, and already felt that my legs were starting to shake. I tried to move them a bit before I started talking (the teacher was taking forever writing notes about the presentation before me), but my legs were not listening. So ungrateful.

At last the teacher looked at me with a forced smile and a little nod, showing that I could begin speaking about my fascinating quiche. Oh did I mention? It's in French.

At the exact moment when I wanted to open my mouth the teacher interrupted me: "What is that in your hands, Yara?"

I looked down at my paper and back at the teacher. Was she dumb? "That's my text," I said. "I told you," she sighed, "you're not allowed to have your text with you in front of the class." I heard some girls giggling but they stopped when I sent them a deadly look.

What do I do now then? I could barely talk about quiche with the paper, without there is more chance I'll end up talking about deadly spiders or something. Oh God why me?

The class was staring at me. I stared back. The teacher was leaning back in her chair, raising her eyebrows at me and not breaking eye contact. And people wondered why I hate her.

I panicked. They kept staring, I stared back. Time stretched out. My heart started beating up in my throat, my legs shaked even worse and I felt like some spirit was choking me, closing off my airway. Before I knew it my legs had a mind of their own and ran out of class. I could hear the teacher yelling something at me, but I was out already. I ran, or rather stumbled, away as far as I could, until my legs couldn't hold me anymore and I fell down in the middle of the hallway.

My heartbeat only got faster, until it hurt and jumped up and down in my chest, as if I've run a marathon. I stretched my neck and looked up to get some air in my airway, but it didn't help. Things only got worse. Every movement I made seemed to make my skin feel tighter around me, closing me in, keeping me in. I felt like a prisoner, as if I was devouring myself, the end of me.

I barely felt weak in my life. But this- This was the end for me. I couldn't lift my hands up, or move my legs. I could feel them shaking and an ice cold feeling got over me, while I could feel sweat drops flow out of my armpits. I felt like throwing up.

Was I dying? It sure did feel like it. I had no idea for how long I sat there, broken on the ground, shaking and barely breathing.

But then it got better. I could feel the control over my body come back, I could move my legs again, even if it was unstable. But I could stand.

No way in hell was I going back to French class now. No. Way. In. Hell. I'd bear the consequences, I don't care. Slowly I walked towards the bathroom: stairs down, hallway through, through the door. I was happy to see I was the only one in there. I chose a stall and locked myself up. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

How many more panic attacks until they finally do their job and let me die? I wonder if you can die from panic attacks. It would make things much easier...

I put my hand in my pocket and felt around until I found and closed my hand around it.

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A/N:

Heyy guys hope you're all still enjoying! This chapter was totally not from own experience noooo

Keep on reading, it gets better :)