Eighteen year-old Zach Curtis has lost everything: his girlfriend, his job and his scholarship. Nothing in the world matters anymore, until he receives a rude awakening from a stranger.
Petite and awkward, Terra Quinn is living the life with her bes...
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– Terra –
I'm kneeling on the ground, my legs numb and crushing underneath my own weight. I don't remember how long I've been here, time is no longer a factor.
The sun is setting and I watch the bright room dim to a shade of orange. Soon, it'll be cold, dark, and I don't know if I'll be ready to be alone in the dark.
I listen to the constant sound of the clock ticking. I couldn't stay in his room any longer after that. I needed to get out, to calm down because I was more than certain I couldn't handle it. He's not gone. I know he's not. I just don't know...if he'll wake up.
Maybe he's just taking a nap, a really, really long nap.
I bite my lip, staring out of the window, exhausted from praying. Maybe God might hear my prayer. I've been told that they work, and if there's ever a time to believe in them, now would be the best time.
I dwell in the eerie silence a little longer. What...what if this is it?
With trembling fingers, I place my phone on my ear, prepared to call for an emergency as I count the beeps on the line.
That's when I hear a sound.
My heart starts thumping a little harder again and I freeze, listening intently. There's a very faint sound of a person breathing, and it definitely isn't my own.
I push myself off the ground, wobbling as I feel my blood rush through my weak legs, tossing my phone aside. I lean on the nearest couch for support, panting as I take big uneven strides towards his room. Holding my breath, I yank the door open, and that's when a wave of both relief and worry flood in like the stormy seas.
He's awake, sitting upright on the same place I last saw him, but he's breathless, suffocating, insufferably gasping for air. His hand is clenched into a tight fist over his chest as if he is trying to rip his chest open.
He's in pain.
I rush towards him, filled with unexplained desperation.
"Zach." I wheeze, gripping a hand tightly on his shoulder. His breaths are short and shallow, and it's starting to scare me in ways I've never been frightened before. I watch his hands shiver violently and I place mine over them, hating myself for not knowing what to do.
It's a panic attack.
"Zach, I'm here." I say, clearer this time, brushing my fingers pass his cold trembling hands. He's struggling, he's struggling so hard, and it's hurting me to see him this way.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.
"Help me." I hear him gasp weakly, "Please."
Immediately I prop myself next to him and pull him in close, wrapping my arms around him tightly, afraid to let go. I feel his dry breath on the skin of my neck and his cold body quivering against mine. I shut my eyes, calming my racing heart in hopes of soothing his.
