"hey, are you okay?" you asked, wrapping your arms around me and holding me to your chest.
i couldn't speak.
i couldn't think.
i couldn't breathe.
"holy shit, breathe!"
and i remember my hands coming up to try and push the air out,
my body
s h a k
i n g,
me mumbling out apologies as i crouched down, my head between my knees.
"oh my god, mom! mom, please she's hyperventilating!"
seeing blurs of white and blurs of black before i could only see the
inside of my eyelids.
i imagined
the look of pure fear on your face as i heard you slide
to
the
floor.
i felt
the tears the hit my knees, you pulling my hands away as you tried to help regulate my breathing.
but maybe it was exhaustion, "i don't. god, i-i don't know what to do just please..."
i felt your hands constantly leaving before returning within an instant,
your sniffles and your weak encouragement.
maybe i was right,
maybe.
but maybe i was just done.
YOU ARE READING
touched ✓
Short Storystory #2 in the 'for the flawed' series. tw | abuse every night you held me. making me feel disgusting, because you were the s e c o n d to touch me. © 2014 flawed- (lowercase intended for stylistic purposes.) [Jan 16, 2015:: #2 in short story.]