Darling You've Got Your Demons | Kaylor

eleven

Trigger Warning: self harm, panic attacks

Karlie

Ever since Taylor and I began dating, I felt like I was walking around in a cloud of happiness. Even Dr. Reynolds noticed that I was smiling more. She told me that I was making extreme progress, and that she was proud of me. I remember glowing with happiness when she told me that. I don't think anyone ever told me they were proud of me before. I was prescribed new meds, and I'd started going to the gym. I rearranged my furniture, threw out a bunch of old clothes, and had been going to my job every day. For the first time in years, I felt good.

At work, I was working on the story line and programming for a new video game we were going to make. Ever since my boss Julian had decided to break away from Nintendo, we'd been working tirelessly on a way to put our small, yet productive company out there. After trying out several different ideas, we'd decided on a main story line for a game, which is where I came in as a programmer.

I knew this mania wasn't going to last forever, so I was attempting to be as productive as possible. This morning, I actually woke up before 10 (something I hadn't done in years). As I got out of the shower and walked into my room with nothing but a towel wrapped around me, I heard my phone chime, announcing a text from somebody. Hopefully Taylor. But, as I picked up my phone, I realized it was my younger sister Kariann. She rarely texted me before eleven, my normal wake up time, but my mood was too vivacious for me to expect anything but good news.

However, when I read her message, I stared at the words in disbelief. I wasn't expecting this at all. The words became blurred as tears gathered up in my eyes. I wiped them away roughly. Mom and Dad want to see you, it said. It took my brain a few seconds to process it.

Mom and Dad want to see you.

Mom and Dad want to see you.

Mom and Dad want to see you.

Mom. And. Dad. Want. To. See. You.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't see them. Not now, not ever. Not after they'd caused most of my pain and suffering.

My breathing became more shallow and black spots began to dance across my vision. I felt like I was drowning. I sunk to the floor, my towel slipping off of me. My wound-less skin stared at me, mocking me.

I had to do something. Didn't matter that I hadn't cut myself since treatment. Didn't matter that I was trying to stay clean. Didn't matter that I'd been taught other ways to manage my feelings. My heart felt like it had been attacked by a tiger. I felt anger rising in me, although I didn't know exactly who I was angry at. Was it myself, for not being able to feel without numbing the pain? Or was it my parents for not being there for stop me when I did it?

"Stop!" I screamed, banging my fists into my thighs rapidly. My hands were clenched, and my sharp fingernails dug into my palms. "I. CAN'T. FUCKING. DO. THIS. I. CAN'T. FUCKING. SEE. THEM.," I yelled in between gasps. More tears began to fall. I tried to wipe them all away, but my shaking hands made little difference. I bit my lip harshly. My sharp nails dug into my thighs. I could taste blood. I just wanted it to stop.

Taylor

I was just watching Friends on Netflix when I got a call from Karlie. My girlfriend. I smiled.

However, as I picked up the phone, my face was quickly wiped of all signs of happiness.

"Taylor! I - I can't breathe!" she said between harsh breaths.

I immediately began to panic, but tried to sound calm for Karlie's sake.

"You need to relax," I instructed in a (hopefully) confident tone, "And try to match your breathing with mine, okay?" I took several exaggerated breaths. Her breathing slowed slightly. "Good. Where are you right now? At home?"