Raelyn's world is black and white. Shades of gray and dark shadows lurking in her dreams. She only ever sees the color blue. Blue in the eyes of her sick little brother. Blue in her own eyes staring back at her from the mirror. Blue in the sadness o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
TW: Panic attack, unintentional form of self harm
Fear is something of an enemy to Raelyn. It surges up from nowhere, poisoning the pit of her stomach and plagues her heart. It has been doing that once in a while for the past three years, and today, today it comes back. The same powerful surge, if not a little differently because Ronan has never just fallen into her arms like that before.
"Rae, I'm sorry, you have to go now." Ronan's doctor, Dr. Ramsy, quickly and gently kicks Rae out of the room, the door closing and blinds pulling shut.
She had been playing a game of Minion Rush with Ronan on her phone, when he suddenly dropped the device and slumped over in his sister's arm.
"Ronan?" Rae questioned desperately, straightening his body against hers.
"Ra...m'chest...hurts...stop it." Ronan panted, his words slurred with each breath.
Immediately, Rae had called out for the closet nurse Greg, while the machine next to Ronan's bed, hooked with the clear tubes to Ronan's little wrist, beeped constantly. Greg quickly called for the doctor and now there Rae stands. Staring helplessly at the door, her little brother lying weak behind it. There's a serene moment as she stands there, quiet in the hallway, save for the faint sounds of singing and guitar strumming, where Rae is frozen. The calm before the storm. Then it happens.
Fear that quickly turns into something worse. Sharp painful spams shoot through Raelyn's chest, curling its vice fingers and constricting her heart. She felt it coming, knew it would be coming the second Ronan fell limp, yet she could do nothing to stop the attack; never can. The halls of the Hospice suddenly surge in temperature, abruptly spinning around her in white and colorful blurs. Rae's hand springs to her chest, clutching at her skin, desperately trying to stop the pain.
Thoughts explode in Rae's mind, loud and urgent; What if this is it? Oh God, maybe it is it. Ronan is fading into the blackness that haunts her dreams. It's her fault; she overexerted him. If she hadn't made him laugh so hard, hadn't gave her phone so he could play the game and stress out when he lost. He'd be gone before their mother could even get there. They wouldn't get to say goodbye and the blue of Ronan's eyes would turn into gray stones...
Rae is now gasping for air, leaning against the wall for support. It's nothing but sheer panic until she can squeeze her eyes shut and tries to force herself to breathe. She'd call him, she really would, if he wasn't already there, singing along with his band mates and knowing none the better. Rae spins around, wobbling a little on her feet, eyes wildly searching for them. A passing nurse reaches out to steady her, her expression alarmed.
With the strength pulled out from years of practice, putting on that mask she so carefully crafted, Rae sucks up her panic. If only for the briefest moment to reassure the nurse that she's fine, only to panic twice the times when the nurse walks away. Rae attempts to make her way across the hall, but she feels as if she's treading through water, opposite the current. Another painful spasm stops her in her tracks. She knows what room he's in, can hear the music, adjacent from where she's stopped. But her attack is becoming too much, and she thinks she can't make it there in time. Just like Ronan isn't going to make it. Ronan isn't going too push through the way Rae is pushing through the water and if he can't, then neither can she. She'll just drown along with-
