It was a dark room. The lights were completely black. I was sitting in the middle of the room tied up with chains connecting to my slit wrists. Blood dripped from the open wounds in a rhythmic pattern. Drip...drip...drip. Trying to tug and pull at the chain put me in agonizing pain that I could not contain. I opened my mouth the scream but for some reason nothing came out. I was left there with tears streaming down my face in absolute silence. Isolated. Not being able to talk nor see anyone. This mysterious room reminded me of the time when I was younger and I insisted to my mother that there were monsters who came out from under my bed in the night. They would mock the fact that no one believed me about them. I used to lay under the covers terrified. Trembling until the morning sun would creep over the horizon and shine through my window. All I knew was that this situation was not like at my house. Instead of a bed underneath me there was cold stone flooring. The humidity was insane. The constant sound of my blood splashing against the floor was accompanied by the faint creaking. I assumed I was underneath of a sewer or something as when I gasped for air there was an overwhelming smell of rotting fish and cow manure. I felt hopeless. Unwanted. And uncared for. Someone wants me dead. They had the ordasity of hucking me onto the floor like I was a pile of worthless trash. I tried to follow where the chain attached to but my legs were numb and weak. Almost nonexistent. I had also tried to look for a way out but the darkness overpowered everything making it impossible for my eyes to adjust to the lack of brightness. I had no other option but to give up. I was alone. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. And hours felt like days. I had been down there for what seemed like a week or so. No one came. I was laying on the floor exhausted and trembling with fear. I didn't expect anyone to show up to this abandoned place. The harsh environment was never a wish for anyone to have sight of. Until the slam of a door echoed through the damp room. My head shot up to be visited by the beam of light coming from the entrance. Apparently there was an unreachable door on the opposite side of the room. Soon after the doorway was accompanied by a large shadow. The figure was muscular with very distinct features. I knew this was my time. This man was here to end my life. I sobbed. Finally able to find my voice I yelled "what do you want from me?" The man shocked from my response clasped his hands together and walked patiently towards me. He stood above me as if I were his pet. An art piece made to be stared at for enjoyment. He kicked me in the stomach five times. Aggressively grabbing me by the shirt pounding in my head. My eye throbbed with an ache. "What did I ever do to you? I'm innocent! I'm innocent". He did not take my remark well. With a disgusted look of his face he reached for his back pocket. I didn't want to look. "Any last words?" All I heard was the sound of a pocket knife being flung open from its case. "No! No! No! No no no! Please don't! I'm sorry! Just please don't!" He smirked at me. Extending his hand further backward as if ready to propel it at me. "No! Nooo!"
I woke up. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I knew that this was the beginning of my annual panic attack. The bed was full of sweat in the places I had laid. My heart had been racing quicker and quicker with each breath. My thoughts were on a rampage telling me over and over that this situation is real and I was going to die soon. I was paralyzed in my bed with fear that maybe this wasn't just a dream. What if it was a sign... A sign that maybe just maybe this is going to happen to me if I get out of my bed. I hated life. I never want to go to school. And I never want to leave the comfort of my soft, warm bed. The thoughts made my chest heavy. The sickening feeling of the horrible things that were to come of me. I'm going to die. And maybe I'm going to die now. My heart is beating so fast that I could be having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or a seizure. I could possibly showing signs of a sickness. I hate life.
"Honey. It's ok." My mom had come bursting into the room. She knows my routine in the morning. Wake up, have panic attack, shower, get dressed, do makeup, eat and then go. It happens every morning as if on repeat.
"Yes you are going through something. Your feelings are just there to scare you. You know you are not sick nor dieing. Don't let the anxiety take over. Just reach into your handy dandy brain tool box and use the six seconds rule. You know. The one where you need to use the cognitive part of your brain in order to get your emotions and thinking elevators on the same floor. Ok count with me. 100... 95... 90... 85... 80..."
She knew exactly how to calm me down. She gets me in some ways. When she found out that I had horrible anxiety she was a nonstop computerholic. She searched up many ways to deal with anxiety, booked me in with the best psychologists. She even set me up with daily yoga classes. I don't really like yoga but apparently it calms the nerves and stimulates your brain to take a breather and touch in with life. To me yoga doesn't make a difference. It just stresses me out even more. I don't know how it's even possible to maneuver yourself in such an elegant way without toppling Over like a three year old.
"It's okay Emma. Just calm down and take a breather."
Slowly I started gaining the ability to control myself. To tell myself that I was ok. Before my anxiety used to be so bad that I was unable to sleep and I was in the hospital for a month. It seemed impossible to be able to calm me down. No one made a difference until I met with the right psychologist. He has a sense of tranquility that soothes my brain into doing whatever he says. If he tells me I'm wrong then gosh darn it I need to learn how to be right. But when he validated my feelings about how I feel it's like a personal achievement. He's someone that gets me. He's also not hard to look at. He's super tall with big brown eyes. Of course he has the most perfect jawline and flawless skin. Oh and his over all personality could just make someone's heart melt. I just like him so much but I guess that it's good that I like him because I see him every single week on Wednesdays. I usually talked about the things that made me worry and stress out a lot. Unfortunately i am diagnosed with social, general, and panic anxiety. So basically i am freaked out 24/7 that i will die or my family will die or that a natural disaster will erupt and kill all of the human race. No biggie. I also get freaked out that people are constantly watching and judging my every move and if i do one wrong mistake then they will laugh at make fun of me until i burn on the floor in a huddle of crying mess. Not exactly a walk in the park. It has been really rough for me to try and get over some of these fears. They are legit things that could happen to everyone and anything at any given point of time.
"Come on Emma. everything is just fine. Its time to go to school." reluctantly i dragged my boney legs out of bed to start the rest of my routine. I quickly stripped down and carefully stepped into the shower. I hadn't told anyone this before because it seems like such a silly thing but im afraid im going to drown or get murdered while taking a shower. I mean is it really my fault tho. Hasn't everyone seen those scary movies where a person is standing behind them with a knife ready to just stab them in the back a thousand times. My hand reached for the pump of my shampoo. It was hard to get my normal amount out of the bottle because there was barely any left. It has seemed that maybe Anika had used my shampoo for a bathtime experience with her dolls. I was kind of mad but i can't get completely upset as she is only three years old. I remember back to a time when i was younger. I loved adventure and the endless thought about doing crazy things without anything holding me back. I especially remember this one time. I pictured that the swingset at the park was a real life plane. Everything was smooth sailing. I was flying above all the stars just clinging onto the amazing feeling of the wind blowing through my long blonde hair and the sun beating down on my pale, white face. I was going faster than all the birds in the sky. I was above everyone else and absolutely nothing could touch me up in the safe haven. Anyways what i was able to get out of the bottle i placed strategically in the greasy places of my head. As it was sitting in my hair the water poured down my spine dripping all the way down to the floor. I noticed the pattern as it dropped. Symbiotically they would fall in a constant motion. The feeling of the hot water pounding against my face makes me never want to leave the comfort of the small, enclosed space. I massaged the shampoo out of my hair and put an over excessive amount of conditioner in my hair. Like always while the conditioner was sitting in my hair i soaped myself up. The clean stench filled the room as i was becoming squeeky clean. All of a sudden i could feel the build up of water getting taller and taller underneath my legs. The soap that was once my friend quickly turned on me to start burning my eyes. I wanted to be able to wash it out but it seemed to be embedded into the photoreceptor cells on the back of my eyes. I scrambled to find the tap just hoping that maybe i could find the nozzle with the rushing water before it could reach the point of choking me to the point of death. There was no time to worry and no time to panic. The only thought that crossed my mind was where could the water even be coming from. A minute ago nothing was wrong. It was just a normal shower but now i'm going to die in the remanence of my own filth.
