Fixing A Broken Compass

Who Doesn't Love Glitter?

"No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief."

Everything was dark.

It was all too much.

He couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't breathe.

It felt like every inch of his body was on fire. Like his skin was crawling. The darkness washed over him like a heavy downpour.

He tried to move but he couldn't.

He couldn't.

"Miles!-"

Miles woke up with a panicked gasp grasping at his chest. He couldn't help it as he threw off the covers stumbling out of the bed.

His vision was blurry his chest tight and it felt like the room was closing in on him.

He grasped the door frame his nightmare lingering in his head as he moved down the stairs taking three at a time.

Unfortunately for him, he was so out of it he missed the skateboard that was at the bottom of the steps one moment he was trying to run away the next he was landing face-first on the ground his face hit the corner of the end table near the bottom of the stairs a sharp pain overtaking him making him hiss loudly.

He tried to catch himself grasping at the cabinet as he landed on his knees one of them landing on the skateboard and with the impact Miles knew it was going to bruise.

"Shut the front door!" Miles's loudly whispered his hand moving to grasp his face were the corner of his eye hit the end table.

It felt wet making him cringe, he swallowed harshly one way to forget about a nightmare? Get injured.

He merely sat on his knees for a while almost frozen in place.

A fun fact about Miles is that he's extremely claustrophobic.

Something that he never seemed to be able to get rid of. Traumatic childhoods and all that good stuff.

Unfortunately for him well he could avoid being put into small confides well he was awake he couldn't control his nightmares.

You couldn't pick them they chose you.

So each morning he dragged himself out of his nightmares pushing them away day by day.

He couldn't remind everything that happened in his dream. He just remembered the urge to get away. The feeling of being locked up.

Before his parents died he had dabbled with weed and alcohol. It's how he met Avery at a party about a year ago.

It just made him feel...freer. He didn't have to focus on everything it helped take pressure off of school and life.

Drinking was what got him into this mess in the first place.

Because after all, it was his fault his parents were dead.

It was his fault that Reggie would never get to grow up with parental figures.

That Willow wasn't talking.

That the twins hated him.

No one said it but they all knew.

With each day his guilt grew, only he couldn't just go to a party and forget about it. He couldn't just mess around or goof off.

He had his baby siblings to look out for now.

To make an example out of himself.

And look where he was now having a panic attack on the hallway floor tears rapidly streaming down his face.