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≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪ Serenity sighed for what felt like the fifth time tonight. The brunette was overlooking the ocean on the balcony of the Strand household, a cigarette lit in one hand and her left hand resting on the glass fencing around the house. She was beyond worried about her father's arrival, which was past due now.
Victor Strand, her god-father, was a man with a good sense of judgment, and he was the one who decided that both he and Serenity needed to head back to Mexico as soon as they could. Her father had decided it would be best to get more supplies for the boat ride before he and Serenity would make their departure from California. The man had always prepared for the worst, even before the worst had happened.
She couldn't stop the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew the sensation would not leave until she saw her father again. Her father had always told her she worried too much, but she in all honesty could not help it. Her brain was in overdrive, and she felt herself becoming sick just thinking about the what-ifs.
When Serenity was eleven, her papá, Thomas Abigail, had found her tucked in a corner. Her little round face was red and puffy, covered in tears. Serenity was breathing heavily, almost as if she could not catch a breath. At the time, her grandfather had just passed away, and Serenity did not understand the meaning of death at the age of eleven but understood enough to know that he would not come back and rock her to sleep or sing her little tunes in Spanish as he did when she was upset.
Thomas Abigail had spent over three hours trying to console his little girl to get her breathing back to a regular pattern. It was not the first time he had to do so he was certain it would not be the last. It was almost a routine between the two. Thomas made sure he was always there to help his little girl through her episodes. She had constant panic attacks, and none of her family understood why the little girl was always so anxious.
Serenity's grandmother, Celia Flores, had decided that it would be best to take her to a family doctor. Her grandmother often had a hard time watching her sweet granddaughter go through the attacks, so she made the final decision. The doctor had diagnosed Serenity with severe anxiety, as well as major depressive disorder. The family doctor had determined the best way to resolve her issue was to have her on a regularly scheduled medicine twice a day. Though the medication had helped her when she was young, as she grew, her anxiety and depression grew with her.
Serenity was now nineteen and still has yet found the best way to console her lingering anxiety. She often found herself depending on the cancer sticks or simply sketching. Though she had already tried to sketch earlier in the evening, not finding any comfort in doing so, her sketchbook lay forgotten on her queen-sized mattress.
