Hysteria|Wenclair

Woes and prayers

Yoko's POV:

I lay on my bed, my eyes closed and arms crossed over my chest as I breathe in... and out... and in... and out...

I'm going to fucking die.

I am bored out of my mind! Usually something really really bad happens to me and I spend all my time silently sulking about it until I finally break, but nothing has happened!

Well, I did get hatecrimed a little over a week ago but I faced my feelings too fast so now it doesn't really affect me.

My blackeye is already almost healed and I've been way too happy for my own good.

Seriously, if someone doesn't bust into my room with a new issue for me to deal with, I might actually lose it!

The door busts open.

"Yoko!"

Oh, right on cue. Thanks, eerily creepy fate.

I sit upright.

"Hey, little one. What's up?"

She comes storming in the room, almost as if looking for something.

"Enid?"

"Yoko! Where are you!?"

"I'm... right here."

"Yoko! Yoko!"

She kicks down my bathroom door as if she hadn't heard me, frantically looking for me. That's when I finally start to worry and stand up. Enid rushes out of the bathroom starting to panic.

"Yoko, I know you're here! Stop hiding already!"

She starts to frantically search everywhere: My closet, my drawer, my couch, my coffin. She then jumps onto my bed, screaming into one of my pillows. I decide to touch her on her shoulder, hoping to jolt her back to reality. It works, a bit too well.

She screams. Loud.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU JUST APPEAR THERE!?!?!?!?!?"

"Enid, I've been here all this time."

"N-N-NO YOU HAVEN'T! I WOULD'VE- I WOULD'VE-"

Her own desperate breathing cuts her off. Of course! Why didn't I notice this. She's having an anxiety attack.

She had them quite a bit in middle school, often sneaking out of her house to come to mine, running away from the fears that is her day to day life. I used to take great pride in the fact that I was the only one able to comfort her, but as of right now, I'm nothing if not horrified.

"Where's Wednesday?" I ask, making a mental note to speak as softly as possible.

"She isn't- she's with- Esme and- can't breathe-"

"Okay, come on Enid."

I lift her up to a seating position. She manages to let in a gasp of air before she goes right back to hyperventilating. Her claws unleash, and so I quickly take a hold of her hands so that she doesn't scratch off her skin.

She clenches her hands into fists and her claws retreat out of force. That cannot be healthy.

"Enid. Breathe."

She gasps for breath and I rub her back soothingly, remembering how this used to calm her down. Suddenly we're twelve again, and Enid is panicking in our room as quietly as possible as not to wake my dad.

"Slower. In for four, out for four" I remember saying vividly, and so I say it now. She sucks in a deep breath, and immediately regrets it when she starts choking on her own spit. I hit her back harshly, trying to cease the choking.