Duplicity [h.s]

70

tw—panic attacks and mentions of self harm related themes (the stitches on his face)

Harry Styles

I awoke in the bed with a wave of discomfort aching every nerve in my body. My chest was heavy and my swollen sleep eyes couldn't process the feelings fast enough. Her stomach was so warm under my head, the sounds of her body function right beneath the soft blanket of flesh. Little things like that give me comfort, but no amount of comfort or solidarity can change the way I feel in panicked moments like this.

Panic attacks.

I was asleep on her stomach, and within my first three minutes of waking up, I felt the uneasiness taint my blood like the dark night shores of Miami Beach. The painful feelings from the deepest parts of my soul conjoined into one unavoidable panic, waking me up from any daydream she ventured me in.

Please, no. I can't do this today.

The anxiety in my mind didn't let me protest, like usual. My heart started thrashing, chest filling with so much heavy air that it felt like water and my lungs were the stretching wet balloons.

I arose from the warmth of her angelic body, sweat coating my hairline as the discomfort only grew. My hand clenched the expensive white bedding next to her hip. My wet eyes gazed the length of her body on my left, something that shouldn't have made me panic more. But it did.

With a throat tightening feeling, I launched off the bed. My body threw myself up to my feet, hands flying to the back of my pounding skull. The panic started making itself more known in my mind, solid like a boulder and painful like a slow impale to the skin. I pull my hair, hard. It hurt, but not enough to distract me from the rollercoaster that was only going up. I bit my tongue, that hurt too. My bare feet started pacing the hardwood floor silently, I felt like I was going to be sick. Maybe I was going to puke, that would help distract me.

One of the floorboards were creaking when I stepped on it, meaning the room was too quiet. I didn't know where to go, but this panic attack was coming on so strong. I couldn't let her hear me, I needed to go somewhere far without leaving her alone in the suite.

In quick decision, I run over to the television and flick it back on. My fingers were aching when I did it, my breathing being heavy between my clenched teeth. The screen lit up and hummed a channel that was on last night, I left it at that low volume. My head turned to her peacefully asleep still, eyes feathered shut as tranquillity kept her mind in the abyss of what was happening to me. Good. I hope she stays asleep until this is over. I hope she never finds out about this condition I suffer from.

I run out of the room, gently shutting the door behind me for another sound barrier. I was falling apart slowly; chest burning, hands aching, dizziness that made my perspective all cloudy. Thoughts of losing control again made me sick to my impenetrable stomach.

But the memories of loosing control were flooding back, that's why this always gets so bad.

It was so quiet in here, this door wasn't enough of a barrier to hide my breakdown. In subtle hyperventilation, I ran over to the common room television and also turned it on. I was shaky, my skin running hot under my shirt and track pants. The screen lit up to a channel I didn't bother looking at, all I saw was the memories flooding back in my head and dancing with my deepest fears. They were playing ring around the rosy, and I was in the middle.

I need more distracting noises so she won't hear.

I stumbled over to the untouched kitchen, grunting to myself at the pressure I was feeling in my chest. My hands flipped on the tap so heavy water poured out the faucet. I bent over and let some of it soak my face, it was cold against my hot skin. I stood up straight and rubbed my temples with the palms of my hand, clenching my teeth and pacing the kitchen. My eyes wired shut as I groaned to myself, wanting this to go away. I started losing it, this is the first one I've had in a little while. I went through a long stretch this time, stupid enough to believe it was actually getting better.