The things we never had

Chapter 12

Grey and I had been talking for a while, just casually chatting. Eventually, we both drifted into our own little worlds, scrolling through our phones, lost in the comfort of silence. Then, out of nowhere, I froze. It was as if the room got colder, my body stiffened, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My chest felt tight, like I was trapped beneath something heavy. My breath caught in my throat, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat—loud, like a drum, pounding in my ears. Everything else faded, like the sound around me had been sucked out of the room. The world went quiet, but inside, the noise was deafening.

I glanced at the screen "1 Year Ago Today: September 20th, 2023."

 What I saw made my stomach drop. It was pictures of me. My face, my body—bruised. I didn't even remember taking them at the time, but there they were. I had taken them as proof. Proof of what had happened. Proof that it wasn't just in my head, that if I ever told anyone, they'd believe me. They would see the bruises, the marks left behind. Maybe that's why I took them, so I wouldn't forget, so I wouldn't convince myself that it wasn't real.

Those bruises—they told a story. A story I've tried so hard to forget, but somehow it never really leaves. She had paid me a visit that day. That memory came flooding back with the photos. Her. The one who hurt me. And even though it happened, even though I knew it wasn't right, I couldn't stop the voice in my head from whispering, "It was my fault."

I didn't fight back. I let it happen. I just stood there, letting it unfold like I had no control. And because of that, I convinced myself that it was my fault. I didn't scream. I didn't push her away. I didn't stop it.

It was my fault. 

I couldn't breathe. No matter how many breaths I tried to take, it was like the air just wasn't reaching my lungs. My vision started to blur, the room spinning as if the walls were closing in. I looked around, desperately hoping someone would'nt notice, but it felt like I was fading, slipping out of the world, unseen. The tears started falling without me even realizing it, sliding down my cheeks, and I was too exhausted to lift my hands and wipe them away. I stood up, feeling the weakness in my legs as they trembled beneath me. I stumbled, trying to stay upright, but my body felt so heavy.

Through the haze, I saw Atlas sitting nearby. My ears were ringing, a sharp, high-pitched sound that drowned out everything else, as if the world was miles away. I couldn't hear anything—just that awful ringing. I made my way to Atlas's seat, and just as I was about to fall, I felt arms catch me, pulling me gently down onto the chair. It was Atlas. He held onto me, guiding me into the seat, his arms around my body.

It was strange, everything felt distant and unreal, like I was watching it happen from outside my own body. Atlas started rubbing my back, trying to calm me down, but I still didn't know what was happening. Or maybe, deep down, I did know. I told myself I didn't. I told myself it was just one of those moments—something random, a freak incident that would pass.

But the truth is, I'd been through this before. Maybe not exactly like this, but similar enough. I had these moments almost monthly, like my body was betraying me, shutting down without warning. Each time, I convinced myself it wasn't real, that I was just making it up, blowing things out of proportion. I told myself that I was just doing it for attention, that I was overreacting. I kept repeating that in my head, trying to get a grip on reality, but everything was slipping further away. My mind spiraled as I tried to ground myself, to make sense of what was happening. But the more I told myself it wasn't real, the less real everything became.

As Atlas rubbed my back, his presence helped me hold onto some sliver of reality, but my mind was still racing. I tried to steady my breathing, to bring air into my lungs, but every breath felt shallow, like I was suffocating from the inside. My vision stayed hazy, and I couldn't shake the sensation that I was drowning in my own body. My head spun with thoughts I couldn't control—why was this happening again? Why couldn't I just stop it?