A Soulmate's Love

Chapter 72 - Keep Breathing

*This chapter broke me a little*

Shit.

Why did I keep on doing this to myself?

Why did my brain keep on doing this to itself?

I had to be an unconscious masochist because that would be the only explanation for why I keep on forgetting that I am meant to be sent to the slaughterhouse that is Monaco today. Correction, right now. 

Fuck.

I know George must think I'm acting distant, and if he is, then he would be absolutely right. I can't handle emotions right now. Nope. They are not for me, and if I'm honest, I don't think they ever will be. I can't process them in the same way others do - they just don't click. I would rather turn them off than spend my time and precious neurons attempting to decode the only puzzle I have never been able to solve - myself. Maybe the final puzzle piece to my brain is me flipping the switch, as Elise says. Maybe, I've been fooling myself all along, and the puzzle is only completely solved when I stop bothering to feel.

I think I am going to stick to that theory for a little while because there is so much to feel and not enough storage in my brain. Let's debrief on all of those unfelt factors impending on my inability to be perfect and unemotional:
1. I have to leave George (the worst one), Elise, Fred, Theo, Draco, Blaise, Roya, Angelina, Lee, and everyone else I care about for probably more than two weeks knowing my mother.
2. My mom is going to force me to stop eating two out of the three meals of the day and replace the time I would be relaxing with rigorous - almost fatal amounts - of exercise.
3. I am going to have to do Equestrian, which I used to love, and be slashed for every misstep.
4. Fencing. The discipline is pretty self-explanatory for such a sport.
5. Crushing anxiety because of people giving me sensory overload - noise, sound, visual, touch.
6. That deep, scorching desire for those pills with every staggered breath I'm going to be taking - those fucking pills.
7. The pressure of dozens of camera's watching my every move, recording every conversation I have with others, and stalking me as if I'm of any importance to their lives - I'm not, by the way.
8. The physical pain of having to heal myself by hand (because practicing magic is illegal) after every sport's practice.

I felt like every breath I was taking wasn't bringing in enough oxygen, and the weight of what I knew would be hitting me like a truck was pressing on my lungs, and there was no fucking way I would make it out alive - did I mention my need for those pills?

I was suddenly enveloped in a hug; a really strong, warm, and tight one that brought me back from the spiral I was about to go down at the thought of those fucking meds. "It's going to be ok, love. You're going to be ok." George whispered as his arms spread across my entire back, caging me in his addictively lovely embrace - I wanted to stay here forever. "You can't stop breathing like that, ok darling? You need to keep breathing, Althea Victoria Jane." He told me firmly yet lovingly, making me nod against his chest.

Keep breathing.

No matter what, keep breathing.

"Keep breathing," I whispered, my voice breaking because of how disengaging his hugs were. When George held me, pieces of my wall fell off, one by one, until there is no protection for what is on the other side. When I would leave him, that wall would have to reassemble - into a fucking fortress. No fucking way was anyone going to get through that.

"That's it, Althea darling. Keep breathing." He voiced deeply, sending warmth down my spine. He was warm, and right now, I was starting to melt again.

"I'm going to keep breathing," I stated, trying to convince myself. 

"No matter how hard it will be, you don't stop - ever." He said while his hands found their way to my shoulders, slightly pushing me back to make eye contact. My image of him was blurred because of the stupid feelings he gave me. I was going to miss George Weasley. He quickly pulled me back into his arms at my fallen expression, enveloping me once again in his love and protection. "Oh, Althea love." He said in the most heartbreaking manner, making me want to crumble in his arms.