I pressed my hands hard into the wall.I put all of my weight, my pressure, into my palms, into the walls. I breathed deeply. Inhaled. Exhaled. Closing my eyes, I let go. The blackness enveloped me like a smothered candle. My flame has been pinched out by two damp fingers. This power I cant control, and will never see. I am nothing.
Two knocks interrupted my dark silence.
''Chlo? Are you okay?'' I wipe the tears from my face, smudging mascara across my cheeks like war paint. Gingerly, I unlock the toilet cubicle and step outside.Immediately,I am ushered into a hug.Her strong caring arms cradle my back and smother my hair. She makes noises like the ocean, instantly calming me, taking me away to a lighter place, a better place.
I don't know how to describe my panic attacks. The name is pretty misleading. There isn't much panic at all. Its more like a wave of depression. Maybe wave is too subtle. A tidal wave is more realistic. The panic comes before the attack, knowing that I'll break down in front of all these people, the thought of them seeing me so vulnerable, wondering what tragedy has caused me to be this deeply unhappy; it could be so much as getting a look from a group of pretty girls that will cause me to flip the fuck out.
Eventually, I shrug out of her hug, and give her a sorry smile. She beams back at me.My perfect girl. She doesn't radiate with insecurity and sadness like I do. In a weird way, she can neutralize my pain.She's the soothing alkali to my fierce acid, and I wouldn't change her for the world. Ain't that just sweet.
As we leave the toilets, Charlotte grabs my hand and squeezes gently when she pushes the door open,exposing us to the packed shopping centre. In the shop opposite there's a large group of girls holding frilly dresses still on the hanger up to their tiny bodies. All their curves are in the right places, boobs and hips with tiny waists, not frumpy like mine. Insecurely, I pull down my shirt over my stomach. Charlotte tugs me away, feigning interest in some pebble washed jeans a few stores away.She scours the rails with expert eyes, flicking determinedly through hangers. She pulls out two pairs, and hurries us both into the changing rooms.
She pulls the curtain round us both and immediately pulls us into a kiss. She cradles my wrists in her hands."Are you okay sweetie?" she whispers, her lips still lingering on mine. I nod sincerely. What else was there to do?"Err, yeah, I'm sure I'll be fine, I just need a second..'' My voice trails off into nothing, and I immediately push my arms into the walls again before the tears come. I hate her seeing me this vulnerable.''For fucks sake!'' I mumble to myself,determined to get a grip now. I rest my forehead against the cool white walls, then turn myself back to face Char, who has now somehow managed to silently squeeze into a pair of tiny, tiny topshop jeans and is checking herself in the mirror.'' What do you think?'' She asks playfully, spinning, before coming into a butt-thrusting squat, pouting and winking at me.'Do I look okay in them?'' She looks up at me with huge puppy-dog eyes, then bursts into a small fit of giggles. '' You make them look great.'' I say honestly, and she pulls me into another big hug, the scent of her perfume filling my nostrils. I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck;she plants a kiss on the top of my head.
The cool air feels so good on my face as we leave the shopping centre.'' You best be as hungry as I am.'' Char starts, babbling.''I could properly smash down a burger right now.'' She isn't kidding, he was able to smash down a burger in under a minute, if you caught her at the right time. It was total massacre, a carnage. Her teeth were all over that thing before you could say 'Here's your change'! ''Chlo? Are you coming or what?'' Her eyes were so wide, and her eyebrows halfway up her forehead.I rolled my eyes at her, and made my way to the McDonald's. I got us a cute spot -on the raised stools near the windows -while she queued up to order.The worktop was sticky,and I had to push aside a fair amount of rubbish to put down our shopping bags. I let out a monster yawn, a crazy mix of tired and Swedish mountain yodeller. I was absolutely knackered. Cream crackered. Luckily, Char turned up with two brown bags absolutely bursting with fat-tastic calories and dead trees.This time, she paced herself with her burgers, ripping off a chunk with her fingers before putting it into her mouth.
