Une Fleure Fanée

Week 4 Part 6 (Saturday)

     Four in the morning, I hear somebody whisper in my ear. My body has an extreme reaction and I have no idea why. I sit up quickly, adrenaline rushing as I ball up, my breath snaking out of my body. My vision's blurring. My chest is in excruciating pain. I'm dizzy. This is an anxiety attack. I need my Fluoxetine.

     "Lilly, it's Brady. We have to get ready for the competition. Are you ok?" he quietly asks me, putting a hand right above my shoulder asking for consent to put his hand on my shoulder.

     I nod, both to his question and to his hand on my shoulder. I'm not okay, though. Brady knows it. He climbs up to the top bunk and puts his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. He also put a hand on my ribcage briefly to make sure I'm actually breathing.

     I finally manage to calm down enough to grab the orange bottle that contains my Fluoxetine. In the dark, I can hear rustling. It's the other kids. My jagged breathing stands out and catches Savannah's attention.

     "Lilly, are you ok? Do we need to get the parents?" Savannah whispers, keeping her voice down to not attract attention.

     Before I can manage to collect myself to answer, Brady replies, "She's fine. Thanks for asking, Savannah."

     He's really protective of me. He's like a big brother to me. I've only known him for a month, yet it feels like I've known him for my whole life. I'm scared my friends and the moms are going to think that I have a crush on him. That's Pressley's territory. He's just a friend. A really close friend. I will never have a romantic attraction to him.

     I down a pill quietly, catching my breath, my vision returning back to normal. I contemplate taking another and another and another, but I remember Brady's there. After a few more minutes, the adrenaline rush was over. It was over.

     I don't know why Brady whispering in my ear to wake me up triggered such an intense reaction. I don't know why he cared so much that I was okay. I don't deserve to be okay. Nobody cares about you at all. You're just some extra annoying piece of shit.

     The moms come in shortly. I give Brady and Savannah the look saying, "Don't say anything." They don't. But I bet Brady is very, very suspicious. Last week, I had gotten shaken up at Veronica's rules in the movie. But that wasn't a full anxiety attack. What just happened was an anxiety attack. Brady looks unsure, but I can tell he's too afraid to speak up.

     Mom hands me my outfit. I hand her the pills. It's the trade. She counts them through the bottle and then looks up at me, one eyebrow raised. She noticed a pill missing from the Fluoxetine bottle. Moms are really good at figuring out stuff.

     "I took it five minutes ago, relax," I groan, falling back on the pillow, but then quickly sitting up.

     Mom sighs, realizing her daughter will be unmedicated during the competition from seven PM to eight PM if I have my Venlafaxine at seven, right when we have to be at the competition. Great. I hope I don't have another breakdown in that hour that I'm still at the competition, unmedicated.

     We are all in hysterics when the moms leave to let us get changed, so tired that we are delirious. We all manage to get ourselves awake and sane enough to get ready. The moms are so tired. I was giggly and happy. Brady keeps very close tabs on me. Maybe he's seeing through the mask. But nobody else knows.

     I put on the outfit that Ms. Abby orders us to wear. I kind of... look good in it. It covers up your stomach and it's baggy, Lilliana. Enjoy this feeling while it lasts. The feeling of confidence drops immediately. The pink ALDC sweatshirt is baggy. Fuck. My leggings make my thighs look big. I lift up my sweatshirt and my ribs aren't showing very much.