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𝗦 𝗨 𝗣 𝗘 𝗥 𝗡 𝗔 𝗧 𝗨 𝗥 𝗔 𝗟.
➶︎∘︎ °︎✩ 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄...!
001. panic attacks 👻
❝︎ yeah, I lost her ❞︎𝘚𝘢𝘮'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 open to hearing his sister caught up in yet another nightmare. He sat up rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, making his way to his sister's bed.
She laid in bed tossing around with beads of sweat covering her forehead and her hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her face was pulled together and every so often a painful moan would escape from her lips. Sam felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched his sister suffer. He knew all too well what was going on in her head.
It was the same thing that happened to him. The only difference is that his stopped and hers never did.
Between walking in on her family after they were torn apart and watching Dean get torn apart by hellhounds she couldn't figure out which was worse. Every single day after her family's death she carried it around, she never stopped seeing it. Now she carries that along with Dean.
Everywhere she looks she sees what used to be them. What they used to be. It gets to the point where her brain feels like it's about to explode. Everything is being thrown at her once and she can't take it all.
It's like with every breath, she only inhaled razor blades cutting at her from the inside until there's nothing left except her safe place, her mind, but how can it be a blessing and a curse at the same time?
Her only safe place is the same place that causes her to fall apart. It's the same place that's killing her.
Sam reached out to attempt to wake her up, but her eyes snapped open before he could. Her hands instinctively went up and around his wrist holding a tight grip. He stood defensively wrapping his free hand over her hands letting her know it was only him.
Her chest heaved up and down trying to catch her breath now that she was awake. She felt her throat closing up and her head began to feel like it was on fire with 500 torches all going at her brain at once. She sat up pushing her back against the bed frame wrapping her hands around the sides of her head, still shaking.
Sam sat down grabbing her hands from her head holding them down with all his strength as she fought his clawed grip.
"You've gotta breathe, come on, in and out." He tried telling her over and over but none of it worked. Her body still felt like it was melting turning into, burning, hot, lava. The sound of Sam's voice pierced through her ears, turning into nothing but a sharp pitch.
Panic attacks were always the worst, especially when they came into her sleep. The space gets smaller, but it's all still being thrown at her at once and the only thing left for her to do is watch. Even if she ran, it always found a way to catch up to her
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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
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