The Day My Life Ended (Editing)

Chapter Twenty (Revised)

I was very familiar with the concept of panic attacks. To me, they were an old friend. The kind of old friend that makes you want new friends, to help you forget about them faster. It's never worked for me.

It's very unfortunate, I know. Also incredibly common. During my childhood, when I had panic attacks, my mom told me to stop being dramatic. Dad would yell at me to stay quiet. Again and again. Each time, the same responses. So I learned to make them quiet. To stop bothering the world with my feelings- they were dramatic, and wrong, and bothersome.

Which brings me to right now. On my couch at the Spencer home. My phone clenched tight in my hands. Hands that were shaking from the pressure. I stared at the phone but I wasn't looking at the phone. Instead I saw Chamberlin and my friends. Together. Him finishing the job like he promised.

But I must be overreacting again.

Being dramatic.

A normal person, according to Sarah Spencer, stays calm and quiet even when freaking out. They hide their true feelings behind a marble expression. A perfectly crafted mask. They do not scream and cry, they maintain their emotions. A normal person should never think of such awful things happening to their friends.

More than that, a normal person never gets into these situations at all.

But I've studied people. I've studied who they are, how they think, how they behave.

Normal people can scream and rant and cry, about anything and everything. They show their feelings. They express and emote. They let themselves feel, and they show it.

Yet Mrs Spencer disagreed.

So. Who is right, who is wrong?

If I am right, and she is wrong, then I can scream. I can let all my feelings out. They want to be let out, to be felt, at least to be acknowledged.

If I am wrong, and she is right...but the results of my research would still be correct. Maybe then everyone else can, and I'm just the exception. It's fine for everyone except me.

Given my past, Mom is probably right.

I took a deep breath. I exhaled, slowly, wanting to roar.

I dialed Anna Bellingham. She would answer.

As predicated, Anna picked up before it even started to ring. I cleared my throat.

"Morgan?!" Anna gasped.

"Anna. I need help." I let out a breath, wiping tears off my cheeks. "Can you come by my house? I need to find the girls."

"What- of course! Yeah, yeah, I can come get you." Anna replied. "Are you okay? Where have you been? We were looking for you."

I didn't relax. "I'm great, thank you. And I'll tell you later. Where are the girls?"

"With me."

"With you?" I asked, voice pitching. I cleared my throat. "With you? Like at school?"

"Where else would we take them?"

My hand clenched on my phone. "It's fine. It's fine. Just come and get me. I've got a plan to get them home. But it's gotta happen soon. Can you come?"

"Of course! Oh, hey Caroli-"

"MORGAN'S ALIVE!"

I hung up, lowering my phone to the coffee table. Then I grabbed a couch cushion. Pressing it to my face, I screamed as loud as I wanted.

==DMLE==

Anna came around not long after. To my eternal relief and stress, the six girls and one boy were packed in the car. I let out a relieved breath. They were here. They were okay.