Solace (completed)

Chapter Fourty-Three

I've taken the time to rewrite the ending of this chapter. After a few people saying they didn't wanna read this book anymore, I've decided to change the ending to something happier. Hopefully you guys like it better.
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Alex Solace

I don't know if she can tell how stressed and frazzled I am or what because she's being very... calm?

Maybe... at ease, almost? Chill? Like, to the point where it's hard to hate her in this moment.

I wouldn't say hate- okay, maybe -I would say... dislike? She's just... she's just standing there with a fucking clipboard and looking around. Looking at me, the kitchen, the fuckin' floor, the stove. I mean, fuck. Is she gonna look at the toilet too?

"I'm your caseworker."

Her words sent me into a panic. A full blown panic. I knew a caseworker was a possibility, Officer Walsh told me it would happen more likely than not. But fuck. She's standing here in my kitchen on fucking Christmas.

Seriously?

The blood in my body wouldn't leave my ears. I couldn't hear anything except the unnecessarily loud thumping and pumping of my heart and blood for a good minute and a half.

I couldn't breathe, it's like I wasn't... my mind wasn't in reality. My throat felt constricted and my head started to hurt. Her words nearly sent me to the edge.

I seriously felt like I couldn't see anything either from how lightheaded I was- or am. My body is starting to work itself into a panic attack that I'm trying really fucking hard to prevent.

This was before I reminded myself that if I make the wrong impression on this lady, she could take Mateo away from me. And that can't happen. I wouldn't... I wouldn't fuckin' survive if that happened. He's the reason I'm still living. I can't lose him.

Then I started to freak out even more.

I knew it. I fucking knew it. I knew this was a possibility but for some reason it was the furthest thing from my mind.

It's one of those things that you know will eventually happen but it seems... so unreal... so impossible that you push it to the back of your head, only to be blindsided when it actually does happen.

...If that makes sense.

A part of me isn't fazed, but I don't know if that's because that same part of me is genuinely not nervous or because I'm convincing myself that this still isn't real and that there's nothing to be scared of.

I don't feel like this is real. I don't feel like myself. I don't feel like a person. I don't... I don't know what I feel anymore.

I'm so fucking sick of not knowing what I feel. Of not knowing how to do or how to handle things. I'm sick if using 'I don't know' as an answer even if it's in my head.

I wanna not be confused for once. For once in my fucking life, I want control. Control over how I live, control over my emotions, control over myself.

I just... let me stop thinking. Thinking just makes my head hurt and I hate it.

I forced myself to swallow thickly and tried to gather myself before speaking, her eyes piercing into mine. I somewhat cringe knowing I was standing here for a few seconds not speaking, just looking at her.