Memories A Pricefield story

Prolouge

Tw: depression + anxiety/panic attacks

Max woke up Monday morning almost expecting a to see a message or a miss call from Chloe. Almost. But Chloe was gone. Gone because of her. The realization hit her like a truck and she felt a panic attacking coming. Panic attacks have been frequent in her life lately, almost becoming apart of her morning routine, along with fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit everytime she so much as saw a butterfly or anything blue. Because blue reminded her of Chloe. And Chloe was gone. Gone because of her.

Suddenly, she heard a soft knock at the door, temporarily breaking her out of her thoughts. She tried to get out of bed, but it was as though she was paralyzed, and her thoughts and emotions kept crashing down on her like a tidal wave, pulling her down and down and down. She tried calling out to whoever was at the door that it was open, but she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think and she couldn't speak.

She wished she couldn't feel at that moment, but she was feeling too much.

The doorknob twisted and swung open, and suddenly Kate was standing there with a picnic basket and a smile. A smile that soon dropped when she was Max curled in her bed practically trembling and struggling to breathe. It reminded her of when Max had frequent asthma and anxiety attacks when they were younger. Kate searched around the room for some water or an inhaler or anything that could calm her down. She found a half filled water bottle sitting on her desk. It was a little bit warm but that was okay. Kate grabbed it and jogged back over to Max who was still trembling.

"Max it's me, Kate," she said. Max barely even glanced up.

"It's okay, you don't need to talk. Just look at me. Focus on my voice, okay? There's nothing bad, it's just me and you." Slowly, Max lifted her head up and Kate wiped the tears off her cheek, and then unscrewed the water bottle and helped Max drink because she was still too shaky to hold the bottle.

She whispered, "just focus on my breathing. Copy me: in through your nose, out through your mouth. Like this, see?" She inhaled and exhaled, and Max eventually started to mimic her actions. "In and out." Kate hoped that it would be enough to get her breathing steady, because she couldn't find an inhaler anywhere. If not, she could just get Victoria or Dana to drive her over to the hospital, though she hoped she didn't have to.

After a few minutes, Max had calmed down, and was breathing normally.

"Thanks Kate," she whispered, embarrassed that her friend had to see her like that; a shuttering, tear streaked mess. She probably smelled awful too. She had hardly left her room since Chloe's funeral, which had been five days ago. Which meant she hadn't showered since then. But Kate didn't seem to mind, she just smiled her soft, gentle smile and gingerly set the almost empty plastic bottle on her bedside table.

"I was gonna come by to ask how you were doing, and to bring by some breakfast that Joyce made, especially for you." She handed her the picnic basket which was full with waffles and eggs and bacon— Chloe's favourite— and two thermoses, probably filled with green tea for her and Kate. It all smelt so good but it also made her sick in a way. Any food was repulsive to Max now, and she hadn't eaten a proper meal since two days after Chloe died. It was obvious too. Her eyes were a little lighter and more glossy, and she had bags underneath them from a lack of sleep. Or food. Or both. Her hair was thinner and greaser from the lack of nutrition and showering. Her cheeks were sunken and hallow and, she didn't know it was possible, she had managed to get bonier. She had hair sticking up all over her newly pale body, sick from being cold all the time and her freckles were practically gone. Her nose and eyes were red rimmed and her lips were cracked and faded.