If Looks Could Kill (Sideshow Bob Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Author's Note:

Possible trigger warning for this chapter.

Enjoy!

Chapter 33

Caitlyn was beginning to worry; she'd rang Bob's mobile three times in the past hour, but it had just gone straight to voice-mail. It wasn't like Bob's to ignore a call, and his phone was always on! Something was definitely wrong, and she wasn't going to wait around to find out what. 

Caitlyn grabbed her rose-pink cagoule and threw it on, deciding not to trust the looming grey clouds. She dashed out of the house, locked the door, and began jogging down her street, towards Bob's house.

*At Bob's apartment*

Bob's eyes opened slowly, then shut again, then finally opened properly. What the hell had just happened?! He remembered coughing up blood; the nausea; the dizzy spell; the headache; the panic; that he hadn't been able to breathe, and the way his eyes had watered, and his throat had burned, and his lungs had tightened. He remembered all of it. Except being led on the floor... He must have fainted! But why? Why did all of that happen? WHY did he have a panic attack?

Then it all came back to him in floods. Bob wasn't with Franchesca anymore. Gino was dead. Caitlyn was pregnant with his child. He wasn't ready for any of it. He wasn't ready at all.

Bob groaned and picked himself off the blood stained floor. Much to his dismay, he'd managed to cough blood all over his sky blue t-shirt. He looked down at himself; it looked as if a giant red cloud had been sloshed right at the bottom of his t-shirt, that had been painted by a five year old. Fantastic.

Bob staggered clumsily over to a chair in the kitchen and sat down, trembling slightly with nausea and worry. His head ache was worse than ever; it felt as if someone had hit him over the head with a mallet and then used his head as a drum. Luckily, his head hadn't been bruised or cut in the fall when he had fainted.

Bob felt his phone buzz angrily in his pocket. He took it out and looked at it. There were three missed calls from Caitlyn, and two texts. One reading,

'Bob, are you okay? Why aren't you answering?' And then another reading,

'Bob, I'm coming over to yours. Don't go anywhere, 'k?'

Bob sighed and placed his phone on the kitchen table.

"What a mess," Bob muttered. Bob took off his bloody t-shirt and tossed it into the washing machine. He then went back into his bedroom, opened his wardrobe, and took out a grass-green t-shirt to wear in its place. 

Bob returned to the kitchen, pulled out a mop and bucket, filled the bucket with hot soapy water, and began mopping the floor, attempting to clean the blood off the tiles.

Then, there was a knock at the door; he presumed that it was Caitlyn.

"Come in," Bob called. His throat hurt, but his voice was still seemingly in tact- at least for now.

Caitlyn came in, hesitant. Why hadn't Bob come to the door like usual? Was he angry or upset with her? Did he hate her? Thoughts filled with self hate fled across her mind, until she actually saw Bob. He looked as white as a sheet, and absolutely exhausted. He had pale pink rings under his eyes, and even his hair was droopy. She shrieked, forgetting to stifle it. Bob winced, but then turned to face her. He gave her a weary attempt at a smile.

"Oh my God, Bob! You're so pale!" Caitlyn gasped, trying not to be too loud, as it had clearly hurt him a few seconds ago.

"I'm always pale," Bob chuckled.

"No, Bob. Not this pale! You look like a sheet! And you look so exhausted; you're trembling! Sit down," Caitlyn fussed. Bob dropped the mop and sat down on the kitchen chair, and Caitlyn sat down next to him on another.

"What happened?" Caitlyn asked, concerned.

"Well," Bob sighed,"An awful lot. I think it may have been a panic attack," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Okay...? What actually-um- happened?"

"I coughed up blood twice. And the room started spinning. Then I couldn't breathe and just... I don't know really. I presume that I must have fainted, as I woke up just ten minutes ago. There was blood everywhere- there still is," he sighed, noticing the stains that were still on the floor, "I changed my t-shirt too; that was turned red too."

"Never mind the mess," Caitlyn said, noticing Bob's anxious looks at the tile floor, "You are what's important. What you described to me did sound like a panic attack. I've had them before. But mine have never been so severe that I vomited. Yours must have been really bad."

"I've been feeling nauseous all day, if I'm honest. And I've had a terrible headache all this afternoon. I just ignored it all- until this happened," Bob sighed.

"Ignoring something is never a good thing to do," Caitlyn said, slightly amused, "I'd thought that you of all people would know that."

"I did- I just ignored that too," Bob chuckled.

"How much sleep did you have last night?" Caitlyn asked.

"Not very much," Bob replied, rubbing the nape of his neck anxiously, "Approximately three hours, from around about 3 AM to 6 AM. Very typical of me, though. I don't sleep much anymore," a sad tinge tipped the end of Bob's sentence.

"I don't do much of anything anymore," Bob added quietly. Caitlyn still heard. Caitlyn's heart twinged with sympathy- or possibly empathy. Caitlyn had felt like that too for quite a while, and even worse for this past month. Being pregnant hadn't really improved her physical health.

"Oh, Bob, you poor thing," Caitlyn enveloped Bob in a gentle hug. Bob hugged Caitlyn back, trying to smile. Anxiety was lapping over him like small waves at the shore; he was anxious that he'd have a panic attack again. Or even worse, have one right there, right then, right in front of Caitlyn.

"Bob," Caitlyn began as they pulled away, "Do you take any medication at all?"

Bob relied, "Anti-depressants. Two a day." He flushed pink with embarrassment.

"Hey, hey! There's no need to be ashamed! It's not your fault," Caitlyn said gently.

"I know. It's just- I feel like such an idiot! You're pregnant and in a worse physical and mental state because of it anyway, and yet I have to go and lose it completely," Bob admitted, sighing.

"Bob, a panic attack isn't like getting angry; it isn't like 'losing it.' You've been under great stress and grief lately, and have had a lot of things to deal with. This is in no way your fault. I'm surprised that you haven't already had one, if I'm honest," Caitlyn answered. Bob just sat there in silence, looking at his and Caitlyn's interlaced fingers and hands.

"You've been strong for too long, Robert. But you can't be strong forever," Caitlyn said gently, squeezing his hands supportively. The fact that Bob had been called Robert by Caitlyn caught his attention; why was he suddenly Robert? Was it that serious? Bob could already feel hot tears welling behind his eyes, but willed them to stay there.

"Bob. I think that you should see a doctor," Caitlyn said quietly. That was the final straw. He'd been pushed to his emotional breaking-point once again. Bob buried his face in his hands and sighed, trying to hide the fact that he was only hiding his face for the fact that he was crying. He was crying- again. He had broken- again. It was what he'd feared would happen; he'd gone crazy, all over again. But in a completely different, and possibly worse, way.