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"It's your fault," a disfigured voice accuses. "You killed us."
Startled, she whips around, desperately searching for the origin of the haunting voice. "You did this," it continues.
"Who's there?" Josephine turns, but the room remains engulfed in pitch black. The voice echoes with each chilling accusation.
"Admit it, Josephine, you killed us."
"What?" She strains to see through the cold darkness that surrounds her. The voices seem to emanate from every corner.
Backing against what she assumes is a wall, the accusations intensify. "You killed us"
The voice materializes right in front of her. She opens her eyes, realizing she hasn't even been aware of closing them. A guttural sound escapes her as the apparitions of Serena and Aspen appear.
"I'm sorry," Josie stammers.
"Admit it." Their lips don't move, yet the accusing words echo from two ghostly figures. "You killed us!"
"I know, I know I did," she snaps, her voice dropping to a whisper as she slides down the wall. "I know I know I know," she repeats.
"You did this!"
She whimpers, covering her ears. "I know, I know," she chants repeatedly.
"You did this!"
Gasping, she wakes up, quickly muffling a cry with her hand. Her skin is clammy.
Just a nightmare.
Throwing the covers off, she swings her legs around, her feet meeting the chilly floor, causing her to flinch.
Still covering her mouth, Josie fights back the urge to cry. Perspiration clings to her hair, sticking it to the back of her neck. Her breathing refuses to slow down. In the dim moonlight filtering through the windows, she discreetly checks that everyone else is asleep before slipping on her shoes.
She needs a quiet place to weather the impending panic attack.
But her panic attack refuses to wait.
Her hands shake as she struggles to put on her shoes, tears blurring her vision. "Your fault!" The accusing voice makes her flinch, as if it were truly present.
Attempting to breathe, she finds it ineffective. Running her hands through her hair after tying her shoes, she finds herself feeling so utterly pathetic.
Attempting to move with the utmost silence, she approaches the door and carefully opens it. Though it emits a faint sound, she swiftly steps outside and closes it behind her.
Her vision remains blurred from tears, and her breathing refuses to find a steady rhythm. Instead, it continues to escalate.
Navigating the dormitory stairs with unsteady steps, she passes through the common room without a clear destination in mind. Exiting the common room and descending a few steps, she halts.
Covering her mouth, Josephine stifles a sob, berating herself for feeling so foolish.
Struggling to prevent herself from collapsing on the spot, she decides to head to the astronomy tower for some fresh air. However, her breathing shows no signs of improvement.
She pauses several times when it worsens, the echoing halls amplifying the noise. Her breath seems to reverberate.
"Fuck," she mutters to herself in a shaky voice.
Wiping under her eyes, she urges herself to endure until reaching the tower.
As she approaches the tower, her breathing intensifies. Turning a corner just before the tower stairs, she collides with someone.
Hands land on the sides of her arms. "Josephine?"
Looking up, she sees Regulus. As if she needs his comments right now—they haven't talked since he snapped at her.
Attempting to retreat from his grasp, she lacks the energy. Regulus appears concerned.
She can't breathe. She needs to be alone. "Let me go." He complies.
Taking a step back, she places a hand on her chest. "I can't breathe," she mutters. Regulus seems to understand, guiding her towards the astronomy tower door.
Opening it, they enter, and she doubts her ability to climb the stairs. Instead, she leans against the wall. "Josephine," Regulus says, standing in front of her and cupping both sides of her face.
"Stop," she mutters, unsure if she wants to halt the panic attack or the physical contact. Regulus releases her face, realizing she can't handle the touch at that moment.
Everything feels like it's closing in—both the physical walls around her and the mental barriers. "Your fault!"
Attempting to breathe proves futile. Sliding down the wall, she feels the cold floor beneath her. Regulus follows, sitting in front of her with a concerned expression. The chill of the floor provides some relief amidst the heat and sweat she feels.
Allowing herself to cry, regardless of how weak it makes her feel, Josephine is unaware of her picking and scratching at her nails and hands until Regulus intervenes, grabbing her hand and placing it on his chest, his own hand atop hers.
"Feel my heartbeat," he whispers.
It takes a moment for her to detect his rapid heartbeat, an indication of nervousness.
"Breathe," he murmurs. "You can do it; you can breathe."
Feeling as if breathing is an intricate task, Josephine closes her eyes, attempting to focus solely on his heartbeat. Tears stream down her face intermittently.
"Stop thinking," Regulus advises. "Just focus on my heartbeat."
Is it working? She can't be certain, but it seems like her breathing is gradually slowing. Opening her eyes, she stares at the spot where her hand rests.
"Good," Regulus whispers. "Good girl."
Swallowing with a dry throat, she hesitates to move her hand, reluctant to face the return of reality and emotions. Observing Regulus retrieve his wand, mutter a few words, and hand her a glass of water, she pulls her hand back to take a few sips.
Feeling drained, her hands trembling, Regulus gently takes the glass when she's done. She sniffs, wipes under her eyes, but remains silent. Then, attempting to leave, she feels Regulus grab her hand.
"Don't leave"
Many factors tempt her to leave—the perceived weakness, the embarrassment of having a panic attack, and the unresolved feelings with Regulus.
"I'm fine before you ask," she replies. "So let me leave."
"I'm sorry," he says, his gaze fixed on their still-joined hands.
"I'll talk with you about it tomorrow," she states wearily.
Glancing down at her hands, one still held by Regulus, she notices bleeding nails and redness from scratching on the back of her hands. She sighs lightly, contemplating an apology but refrains. Regulus doesn't inquire about the cause of her panic attack, for which she feels grateful.
My fault.
"I'm tired; I'm going back to my dorm," she announces, pulling her hand away. "Thank you," she adds, getting up and trying not to stumble as she leaves, making her way back to her dorm.
Feeling like a terrible person, she questions if she truly is.
