Delusional [a solangelo au] sequel to Psychopath

-How to save yourself-

Nico's pov
Trigger warnings: panic attack, hallucination, intrusive thoughts, mentioned puking, mentioned self harm/scars, near overdose,
(Jesus this is terrible: this will be the worst chapter we just gotta get through it)

—
(Day 30)

It was there when I woke up. The headache, that is.

I woke up alone, and Cecil was home with me, and the headache was looming over me like a tsunami wave. It was building and rising and becoming steeper with every second that passed, waiting to crash down and sweep me, and everything in its path, away. To wreck and destroy and rip apart and ruin lives.

But it was manageable when I woke up. I'd had headaches before; they were normal. Sometimes I'd get pressure headaches from nothing but the weather, but if I drank some water and took a nap, it usually went away. I wasn't worried about it, so much so that I didn't even tell Cecil about it. He was worried about a paper and he needed to leave early to meet a classmate to ask a question about footnotes or something. If I brought up a small little problem like a headache, it would add another worrisome topic to his already heavy plate.

I was fine. I did what I always did. And when Cecil apologized profusely and left an hour earlier than when Will was supposed to be home, I waved him off. Because I was fine. Completely fine.

I was fine and then the front door clicked shut and I was alone and I was not fine at all.

The trigger? Unknown. The reason for the headache that shoved me off the edge I'd been clinging to all week? Also unknown. The sum of unfortunate symptoms and timing? Catastrophe.

It started with pacing. And thinking. Pacing and thinking never go well together, especially when you are alone and have no one to stop your hurdling thoughts that tell you you're going crazy.
I had to shut all the lights off because of my headache, which only left the dull grey sheen from the overcast sky outside to light my path.

Then, as if the headache was an open door and a welcoming "come in!" The voices started. A whole house party in my brain; unknown people and mixed up language and indecipherable words.

My head hasn't been that loud in... a long time. The overlapping sounds of voices fighting to be heard, mingling with my own worried voice fighting to stay calm among the crowd, was an unbidden surprise.

So, of course, I panicked. Why was it so bad? Had I finally cracked? Was this the final hurrah before my brain literally melted?

The shaking set it off. And then the ragged breaths. Ragged breathing was never a good sign, because that meant I was really freaking out. It also made the headache worse and it hammered behind my eye sockets. My jaw clenched.

And then my chest stuttered in a panic-induced heart palpitation, thumping behind my rib so loud it echoed over the voices.

I hate that heart palpitations mess me up like that. They always ruin everything. I know—I should have known— that it was normal, because I'd had them a bunch of times before when I was too anxious. But, every time without fail, that thump acts like a wailing siren and convinces me I'm dying. Convinces me that I'm having a heart attack and I'm about to die.

And now, half an hour or so after Cecil left, I was sitting on the couch, bent over my knees and trying my best to catch my breath. Having a panic attack, of course. Because once they've gotten this far, there's no stopping them.

And I knew that this one was as bad at the one in the hospital, but I couldn't do anything about it. And I couldn't even be upset that I couldn't take my life because of where I was, because now? Now I didn't want to. Which somehow felt like an incredible breakthrough and a terrible inconvenience.