Wicked Souls

59

Days went by, I sat in the backyard with a canvas and drew, and I was listening to music on the radio.

He had noticed that I went out to the backyard with a canvas and I was doing some sort of drawing. He wasn't sure what I was drawing, but my focus on the drawing itself fascinated him. He then saw that I was also listening to music on the radio, was this part of my creative process or just something I enjoyed doing whenever I was doing some sort of artwork? He didn't interrupt me, he wanted me to do my thing and for me to have my space. Instead, he silently watched me from the window, enjoying watching the process.

He watched as my pencil or pen glided across the canvas. He could see the way I concentrated on the drawing and the way I took in the music from the radio. He enjoyed watching me in my natural state, it fascinated him and captivated his attention. He continued to watch me from the window, his eyes focused on me.

I continued to draw before starting to paint. I mostly used my hands, and some red paint splattered onto me which made me zone out and feel anxious.

He noticed that I started painting on the canvas and that some of the paint had splattered onto me. The sight of the painted splotches of red got him concerned and he started getting wary. He looked at me and noticed that I seemed to be zoning out. His concern grew as he saw that I started to look anxious. He wanted to stay there and watch me from the window but at the same time, he felt like he needed to go out there and check on me.

I started to go into a mid-panic attack.

He noticed that my body started to shake and my breath started to slowly get agitated. The way I went into a mid-panic attack caused him to get up from his spot and he quickly went outside. As soon as he stepped outside, he noticed the spots of red splotches that were on me. He looked at me once again and noticed how my body was slowly starting to shake even more, and how I was having a hard time breathing. He rushed over to my side, worried and concerned for my well-being.

He got to my side and he saw how my panic attack was starting to progress. The agitation in my breathing got more intense, and my body started to shake even more and more. He also saw the faint red splotches on my arms and hands. He knew the red splotches were caused by the paint, but seeing those splotches and seeing my body shake and my breathing grow agitated started to cause him to panic slightly as well. He was worried and he didn't want to see me like this.

After a few more seconds of my panic attack and seeing that my breathing was about to reach a fever pitch point and that my body was close to completely losing it, he gently gripped my shoulders and spoke softly and calmly to me.

"Honey, I'm here. Everything is going to be okay. Just breathe, and take deep breaths. You're safe and everything is okay." He said in a gentle and soothing voice to try and calm me down.

He could tell that I was already halfway into my emotional explosion, it was only a matter of seconds before I went overboard and fully burst. My breathing had gotten heavy and agitated, and my body was shuddering now. My entire body was shaking from how agitated it was. My eyes looked terrified now, and I seemed completely overwhelmed by my panic attacks. He tried to calm me down by speaking in a gentle and soothing voice, which didn't do much to calm me down but he kept speaking in a calm voice as he didn't want to cause me even more anxiety.

"I-I'm not crazy," I cried.

The moment I said that, his eyes grew wide and his heart started to ache for me. He immediately grabbed me to him and held me tightly, not letting me go. I was shaking uncontrollably from how intense my panic attack was, and the fear of being alone and the fear of being seen as "crazy" flooded me. As he held me, he gently rubbed my back and he spoke softly to me.

"I know you're not. Everything is going to be okay." He said as he kept rubbing my back and as he squeezed me tightly.

His hands gripped my back as he continued rubbing it. He squeezed me tightly and he held me as close to him as he could, he tried to make me feel safe with him. His hands rubbed my back and his body made me feel protected as he squeezed me close, I could feel his breath against me. The words "everything is going to be okay" repeated themselves in my ears as it seemed to be the only thing that I was hearing, and maybe the thing that I wanted to hear the most at that moment in time.

He continued to hold me close, rubbing my back with his hands. His comforting body made the panic attack ever so slightly more bearable for me, and for a moment the fear and trembling started to slowly ease up. My breathing slowly got a little less agitated, although it was still heavier than normal, and the shaking slowly started to reduce. His grip remained tight around me and his embrace remained as protective as it could get. His hands rubbing my back had a calming effect on me, and his presence was reassuring and comforting.

I felt a little better however my chest still ached. I looked at his T-shirt. "I got paint on you..."

He noticed how slightly calmer I got, and the shaking slowly started to ease up along with my heavy breathing. My concern about the paint spots that may be on him caught him off guard, but he quickly brushed it off. For him, the paint spots were the furthest thing away from his mind right now. Although I expressed concern for the spots that may have gotten on him, he remained more focused on how much I was hurting right now.

"Don't worry about that." He said softly.