Where The Wild Things Are [Continuation]

5| THE PANIC

5| THE PANIC

            HE couldn’t be here. It was impossible. But he was, he was here, he was in the place that his subconscious dreaded. His breathing hitched as he kneeled on the ground, still savaging the scene with his eyes.

            Everything was the same. He looked at the trees; they were in the exact same place. He focused on the ground to see faded footprints, his footprints, from all those years ago.  

            “No.”

            It was the only word he could conjure.    

            Before he spiraled into a full-blown panic attack he took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight. I can get out of here if I don’t want to be here, he thought. It worked last time, why wouldn’t it work now?      

            Praying to any higher power that he would be home. He opened his eyes again. His heart shoved in his stomach. He tried again, and again. “C’mon, wake up,” he hissed through grit teeth. His breathing hitched and he frantically looked around to see any change. Knots in his chest tightened as he patted the dirt, waiting for it to form back in his bed. His head whipped around, desperate to find a slight change.     

            Nothing.       

            His body shook tremendously and his breathing became ragged. His stomach was constricted in knots and everything was blurred. He was trembling with fury. Anger pulsed through his body. With shaking hands he stood to his feet, and screamed. He was so furious. At what, he didn’t know. But all he could manage to do was scream at the top of his lungs and punch and kick at all he could.

            The anger was so blinding that he couldn’t even register pain. He slammed his fists against the ground; he kicked and twisted his body at nothing and everything. Hot tears dripped down his face as he tugged at his hair and crumpled to the ground.

            He was breathing heavily, no rhythm set. He couldn’t think, but the only word he could manage to say over and over again was, “No.”

  He remained in that state for a long, long time. Screaming, kicking, punching at all things that he could. He was livid. He could barely control himself, and that scared him.

            When his fists were red and bloody, and his throat stinging he stopped. It was abrupt, as if someone just flicked a switch inside his brain. He unclenched his fists and examined his shaking hands. They pulsed with pain, blood oozing out of the cuts.

            Another strangled cry ripped from his throat, defeated. He was here, and he couldn’t get back home. He couldn’t get back home, the mere thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Tears were streaking down his face, his stomach clenched, and the next thing he knew he shoved himself to his feet, furious. It was too fast. He felt lightheaded and quickly toppled over, but desperately grabbed a tree to try and stay balanced.  But it broke and he slid to the ground.

            The next thing he knew he was hunched over, throwing up. Sweat trickled down his temples as all the contents in his stomach resurfaced.

            When his stomach finally calmed down and his breathing regulated he began to crawl toward the beach, just to get away from the awful stench of the puke.   

            His body still shook as he sluggishly moved himself forward. His eyes were on the ground in front of him, avoiding the roots and bugs that slithered across the dirt. A bird screeched in the distance that caused him to flinch and look up towards the sky. The stars were fading and a light magenta hue began to stain the sky. Morning was coming.

            He glanced ahead and realized the trees have parted and instead of dirt, sand padded across the shore. He crouched and held onto a strong branch as he slowly stood up. He stood there for a moment, his head a little foggy. Blinking hard, he opened his eyes and walked forward. The memories that he suppressed for so long rushing back to him.

           

*

The boat was there. Like it was waiting for him all this time. It had managed to shove itself on the shore. It looked faded; his name once in bold letters had already began to chip off.

            He took a deep breath and walked toward it. His chest was still tight with anxiety with every single step. When he was close enough his hand brushed across the lip of the boat, a nearby bug flew away. The sail was being pushed lightly by the wind; it had stains splashed randomly on the once white cloth.  

            He looked inside it. The two planks of wood that were seats were slightly dented. The wood seemed dry, like it would snap any moment. He climbed in and sat on one of the planks. It held.

            He looked out toward the sea. Miles upon miles of water stretched out as far as the eye could see; the waves rough. He then gazed up to the sky to see that the stars were fading, and the light of the sun was peeping from the east. Casting an orange glow stretching across the sky.

            You know the Sun is going to die, he heard his mind murmur. He remembered how that haunted him like a plague in his younger years. When he got home he had researched it thoroughly, gradually coming to the conclusion that the Sun wouldn’t explode for thousands of years. Though the thought that it would eventually die still frightened him.

            Lost in thought a sudden twinkle of light caught his eye. Confused, he looked around to find that the origin was underneath the other plank.

            He kneeled and looked underneath it . . . and there it was.

            His crown.   

_____

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in forever. Hope you liked it!