you love me 'til i'm frightened, wanna hold the world inside my head

Temperance is seven years old, and everything is just too much .

She doesn't understand how nobody else is screaming inside. The television show her brother is watching is turned to its highest volume setting, and her father is talking loudly on the phone one room over. She can feel the rumbling of the washing machine churning in the basement below her even through the floor, and the sound it makes combined with the vibrations are causing her physical pain. It's hot outside, too hot outside, and so the AC unit is chugging away in the window, making a noise she can only describe as 'scratchy'. It barely affects the temperature inside, so her hair and clothing still stick to her skin. She feels like she needs to scream, to rip her skin apart from her body, to dunk her head in the bathtub full of cold water, anything to make all of it stop .

Russ laughs loudly at the cartoon playing on the TV, and it's over for her. It's all too much, it's too much, and she needs it to stop .

"Stop!" She screams, balling her tiny fists and hitting them against her head, trying to make everything stop. "Stop it!" She can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but sit there, on the living room floor, and scream until it's all over. She squeezes her eyes tight, trying to block out the too-bright overhead light, which unfortunately makes it impossible to see Russ reaching towards her.

She hears him speaking, hears her name, but can't process a word he's saying. She only feels his hand brush shoulder, and it hurts . It feels like fire on her skin, melting her flesh into her bones. There's only one thing she can think to do in her state of terror- she screams, and kicks, and punches, until he moves away from her, holding his shin that she kicked hard. She knows it's irrational to act this way. Teachers at school tell her she's too smart to be like this. Her father and brother are always frightened when she does it. Her mother is the only one who knows how to make her feel less scared, less overwhelmed, the only one who can make her stop screaming. The only one who can make it better. They know this by now. It's happened enough times, but Russ still panics.

"Mom!" His voice booms through the living room. Temperance shuts her hands over her ears tighter at the sound, trying to block it out. "Something's wrong with Temperance!"

Wrong . She sure understood that part. Something is wrong with her. She rocks harder, hits her head against the back of the couch, repeating the only word that can get through her head right now. "Wrong, wrong, wrong." There is something wrong .

She doesn't process her mother come rushing in. She doesn't notice her shuffling Russ out of the room, or turning off the television. Her eyes stay screwed shut, her hands stay tight over her ears, her body keeps rocking. Every bit of input is just registered as pain right now. Temperance stays like that for many more minutes- it could be ten, could be forty five- she doesn't know nor care. It isn't until she stops moving out of pure, unbridled exhaustion that she hears her mother's voice.

"Tempe-" her mother's voice is soothing. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

She shakes her head no. It's too bright, her head hurts too much. She can't do it. She feels more tears escape her eyes that are screwed shut, wipes at them harshly, and shakes her head no again. She hates crying.

But no matter how much of a scene Temperance makes, her mother is always gentle with her in times like these- always takes care of her, always makes sure she's safe. She asks her what she wants, even when Temperance can't tell her in the ways that other people expect her to.

Her mother speaks up again. "I'm gonna ask you some questions so I can get you safe, okay baby? Just tap my left hand for the first option, right for the second. Can you do that for me?"