All Because Of Him

seventy two.

    Do you ever get that feeling where you can't breathe?

It almost feels like your lungs are constricting, your throat is closing, and although every fiber in your being is fighting for that breath of fresh air you so desperately need, you find yourself stuck, unable to move.

As I sit here, on the end of Mason's motorcycle, that one feeling takes over me. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, no hole to crawl into. The only thing I'm able to do is sit here, and let him take me to the one place I promised myself I would never return to.

I close my eyes, hoping and praying that I'm wrong, but I know that isn't the case. I have the route to this place memorized like the back of my hand. I've been here so many times, and yet I'm unable to contain my sudden anxiety over the thought of returning.

The anxiety in my stomach only grows when I feel the motorcycle slowly come to a stop, and I prepare myself for what's about to come. I take a deep breath, trying to suck in as much air as I possibly can before steadily exhaling.

And then I open my eyes.

My vision takes a few seconds to adjust since I was clenching them closed so tightly, but when they do I suddenly start to feel sick.

It's exactly like I remembered it.

The grass fields remain vibrantly green, filled with flowers surrounded by tall shaggy trees. I take in everything in front of me, swallowing the rising lump in my throat.

I let go of my grip on Mason, holding onto his shoulder to steady myself as I swing my leg off the seat and come to stand right beside him. Without thinking, I take a few steps, my eyes looking straight ahead from us.

And then I see it.

My breath hitches in my throat from it standing intact in front of me. I always imagined that over the years it would have deteriorated overtime, with no one able to look out for it anymore.

But I was wrong, it almost looks exactly how it did the last time I saw it.

"Mason... Why did you bring me here?" I ask him, my voice wavering, filled with angst.

He walks in front of me, shooting me a reassuring smile, "You'll see. Come on."

I look at him, hoping he'll see right through me and understand that this is the last place I want to be. I open my mouth to try and tell him that I can't but nothing comes out, no matter how hard I try I'm unable to even get a word out.

He looks at me, the corners of his lips dipping down as he darts his eyes over my face. A few seconds pass until I see him extend his hand out for me to take. I look at it, and back up at him as he waits for me to accept his sweet gesture.

"It's alright, Isabelle. I'm here now."

And just like that, his words melt almost all of my overbearing thoughts away.

He's here now.

I reach over slowly until my hand clasps onto his, and within an instant I feel him intertwine our fingers together before he leads me straight over to our childhood treehouse.

My father built it for us when I was in fourth grade. It took nearly all summer to finish it. We would spend most of the day out here, hauling wood over to him and trying to make it seem like we were helping, when in reality I'm sure we just prolonged the process.

Jessica, Mason, Natalie, Sofia and I would be here almost everyday after school. More often than not though, it would always end up being only Jessica, Mason and I. So many memories flood my mind as we walk towards our forsaken treehouse, and if it weren't for Mason's hand on mine I swear I would have thrown up by now.