Cherry Wine

o n e

January 18, 2018

"Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand?
Come, let me clutch thee:"

I felt my breathing quicken upon hearing the line. The professor checked her nails leisurely, sending a curt nod of encouragement in my direction. I pursed my lips, turning the page. I could feel the questioning gaze of my classmates on me. I could feel his gaze burning my skin. I steeled my shaking hands and continued,

"I have thee not, and yet I see thee
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight?
Or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressèd brain?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see the professor's eyes widen infinitesimally in awe. But that didn't matter now. My mind was already racing, slowly brimming with images so grotesque that I had to close my eyes to catch my breath. I held the desk to study myself. Noah's eyes never left me.

Noah Dimitri Winters. The university's heartthrob and golden boy, sitting next to me. His eyes seemed to follow my every movement. Anyone who knew him knew that he was danger. He fought, he drank, he smoked. Technically, he should've been expelled by now, but there was a bit of favouritism going around here. With dazzling grades that matched his looks and football skills, he was our star student.

If it was some other day, I would've felt flustered by the intensity of his gaze. But I couldn't bring myself to think of anything else even if I tried. My mind was already painting pictures of pain and violence in the back of my eyelids, whispering tauntingly, this is what you want, is it not? To feel the sharpness of the dagger break your skin? Or to see the river of blood flowing from someone else?

"It's not real. It's not what you want. It's not what you want. It's not what you want." I muttered to myself, gently rocking on my heels. A hush fell across the class.

"Abby? Abby, are you alright?" I snapped my eyes open at the concerned voice of Mrs. Smith and tried to give her a smile which turned out more like a grimace. I gripped the edge of the page and cleared my throat,

"I see thee yet, in form as
As this which now I draw."

I could see that everyone was getting uncomfortable now. I knew I should probably stop, but I couldn't,

"Mine eyes are made the fools o'th'other senses
Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still
And on the blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which
Thus to mine eyes."

"Abby." A firm voice grounded me. I could feel Noah's warm hands enclose over mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath and closed my book shut, "Professor Smith, I'm not feeling too good. Can I use the restroom?"

She seemed eager to let me go, "Yes! Of course, go and get some air, Abby."

It didn't take me long to exit the rooms. I walked down the halls hastily, trying to lose the trail of the curious murmurs following me.

I dug my fingernails into my palms and muffled a scream. It was happening again; the noises becoming louder and louder until I can hear every single thing around me. Every whisper, every step, and every single breath taken in. I closed my eyes and stepped inside a bathroom cubicle, not bothering to lock it.

This was not fine. Nothing was fine. The panic attacks and intrusive thoughts had been increasing recently. At first, they just used to ruin my sleep but now, I couldn't even read a passage from a play without getting another freak-out episode.