ᴏᴍɴɪꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ✵ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ✵

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈

☼ ꜰʀᴇʏᴀ ☼

»»-------≪ °❈° ≫-------««

Fear has rapidly become a tangible, living force that creeps over Freya like some hungry beast, immobilising her brain, holding her captive.

Her heart hammers against her ribcage, a thunderous beat that roars in her ears and drowns out the buzzes of conversations that surround her.

Three weeks have passed since the sapphire was stolen, and the thick dread that settled in her veins that morning haven't depleted, rather worsened. From then on, days blur together into a bottomless pit of paranoia.
There haven't been any leads. Dumbledore hadn't offered even the merest idea of who could have stolen the sapphire, though Freya can't bring herself to trust anything that comes out of his mouth.

It had to have been someone in this castle, she's certain, and Dumbledore knows more than he says.

Not knowing is completely unraveling her. It's torturous, really, this presentiment of disaster. Panic attacks are constant, especially at the most unexpected and worst of times, such as right now, at dinner surrounded by all of her peers.

Dorcas waves ringed fingers in front of her face, ripping her from frantic thoughts. "Earth to Freya?"

"Sorry," she croaks, her mouth dry. She sips daintily from her pumpkin juice, which tastes like ashes on her tongue, "I'm out of it today."

Benjy makes a sound that's somewhere between a snort and laugh. "Is there ever a day you are in it?"

Kingsley smacks him upside the head. "Lay off."

"Galleon for your thoughts?" Pandora asks sweetly, swirling her tea and then tapping her spoon on the cup's rim.

There seems to be an irrevocable catalyst in Freya's chest that sends panic flying in all directions. She grips the table's edge as she stands up, managing a weak smile. "Just not feeling well, I'm gonna head back to the dorm."

Emmeline rises to her feet at the same moment. The only friend of Freya that even knows the sapphire's existence, and now of its loss. Concern is palpable in her eyes as she appraises Freya.

"I'll come with you."

"No," Freya blurts out quickly. "I'm fine, really."

Reluctant, Emmeline nods mutely and sits back down after a few moments of a silent argument between them. They all bid her wary goodbyes, though Freya already swings out of the bench and rushes to the exit, aggressively tugging at the collar of her chenille sweater.

Her vision blurs, the edges of her surroundings warping and distorting while anxiety clouds her perception. Breathing comes in jagged, uneven gasps, as if her lungs struggle to draw in air amidst the suffocating grip of irrational terror. She desperately tries to go over the exercises Ezra taught her shortly after the sapphire was stolen.

Five things I can see.
    1    Fellow students' wary glances.
    2    Stone walls
    3    A hiding place—

Freya staggers to huddle in that nearest alcove, arms wrapping tightly around herself to seek solace in her own embrace. The outburst of hysteria washes over her like a tidal wave, gut-wrenching sobs tear through her chest as she buries her face in her knees, rocking back and forth.

She's become quite familiar with this sense of impending doom, has even convinced herself she was dying and ended up in the infirmary several days ago. Although profound humiliation followed when Madame Pomfrey informed her that it was simply a panic attack. Freya fumbles for the Draught of Peace in her pocket, then downs it in one gulp, and the uncontrollable tremor in her fingers drops the vial.