The Editor

22. Emma

I woke up in the middle of the night. It felt as though a hand was pressing against my throat, stopping air from getting to my lungs. I gasped for breath and flailed helplessly. My body shook as sweat poured off my face. I held a pillow to my face and screamed, more frustrated than anything. How do you overcome something that your body is doing to itself? I managed to calm myself down and grabbed my phone. I dialed a number and held the phone to my ear, my other arm clutching a pillow to my chest.

“Hello?” Shit, I dialed Liam instead of Harry.

“H-hi. Sorry I dialed the wrong number.”

“It’s all right, are you okay? You don’t sound so well.” His voice was soothing to my frayed nerves.

“I’m f-fine. I think.”

“You think?” He sounded more concerned now. I clutched the pillow tighter.

“I keep calling Harry but he never answers.” My voice is small, like a child who doesn’t receive much attention.

“He’s sleeping right now. He just came back from signing autographs actually. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“I…I feel like I’m dying.” I whisper. “My throat feels like it closes and I can’t breathe. My doctor says it the hormones but it feels so real.”

“It sounds like you’re having anxiety attacks.” Liam said after a long pause, his voice gentle.

“I call Harry but he never answers.” I say again. “I feel so alone.” And with that statement I feel a tear roll down my face.

“You have me Emma, and Harry. I know he doesn’t answer but he still loves you. He’s been going crazy without you. He reads those damn pregnancy books every chance he gets.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” I trail off, hoping he understands.

“I get it. I have an idea, why don’t you call me when these attacks happen? I promise I’ll always answer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Thank you.” He’ll never know how much this means to me.

“It’s no problem.”

“I should let you go.”

“Only if you want to.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I feel better now, knowing that I have Liam to talk to.

“All right. Bye Emma.”

“Bye Liam.”