trepidation | h.s

part seventeen

Harry Styles

The suffocating feeling caused my eyes to snap open.

I was lying down on my back, my arms at my sides. It didn't feel like I was in my bed, or on any bed at all.

It was hard to see, hard to breathe even.

In my gut, I felt like something was seriously wrong.

I tried moving around, but didn't get very far. I brought my hands above my head, feeling a hard surface just above my skull. My hands travel along that surface, which was also above me.

I let my hands travel to the side of my body, where that same wooden surface also was.

My heart dropped. I push on the wood above me, but it doesn't budge. I'm trapped by this wooden box.

Am I in a coffin?

I push harder on the surface, causing dirt to fall through the thin cracks of the wood.

"No,no,no." I mumble with growing fear and panic.

I'm in a coffin six feet underground. And there's no way out.

My fists pound against the hard wood that was nailed shut above me.

I need to get out. I can't breathe.

"Help!" I shout out of desperation, praying someone above the dirt could hear me.

I'm not dead. I cant die this way.

I pound my fist against the top of the coffin again.

"Please! Get me out of here!" My voice breaks.

My chest starts rising and falling quickly with my panicked breaths.

"Why is this happening to me?" I murmur quietly to myself, wanting to scream and cry but knowing deep down I wouldn't be heard.

I try everything, pushing at the sides of this box of death with my feet and hands, but nothing budged. I slam my head against the surface beneath my back in aggravation.

I felt more dirt falling through the small cracks. Then I felt more.

It starts falling through cracks at a faster pace, filling up the bottom of the coffin.

My breath quickens, knowing my air supply wouldn't last much longer and now this dirt was filling up my space.

In a moment of desperation, I take one of my ring covered fingers and scratch it against the top of the coffin, hoping the friction would light a fire and I could burn my way out of here.

But the dirt is falling faster, and when I breathe, air won't enter back into my body. There isn't any left.

I felt the warmth of a tear fall down the side of my face. It's hopeless.

The dirt comes crashing into the coffin, I keep my hands over my face as I hyperventilate in panic. The soil engulfs my body and the inevitable sets in...

I'm gonna die.

Shooting upwards, my hands finally and firmly grip onto something soft, my breathing heavy while my face was sweaty and my eyes were wet.

It's dark, but I look around and realize I'm in my bed. And I'm alive.

But I was anything but calm. My hands were gripping the sheets tightly. Heavy breaths leave my mouth as I look to the side and see Lydia right next to me.