Solace ~ h.s.

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Dedicated to the magnificent beauty that is @onlyafterlaughter

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We had this cat when I was around Edward's age. Her name was Dusty because of her dusty grey and white colouring throughout her fur. She was the absolute love of my life; we did everything together.

We watched the telly together until mum ordered us to bed. We ate dinner together, well I ate and would drop little portions of my meal onto the floor for her to eat. We even slept together, her small frame curled up at my feet.

We did everything together; until one day, we didn't.

I had come home from school and like usual the first thing I did was strip my checkered tie from around my neck and throw it to the ground, calling out Dusty's name. Mum had sauntered down the steps, biting her painted lips until she reached my frame. She told me that Dusty had gotten sick and that she had taken her to the vet.

As I child I didn't really question it much, only pondering on about when she would return home. Mum waited until dad got home from work that night before they told me the truth; Dusty was not returning home because she was in a better place.

It had been the most painful thing I had been through in my entire life, losing my beloved cat and best friend. But the pain that I felt when Dusty died was nothing compared to this pain right here in this moment. I hadn't lost my best friend, I had lost the two most important and influential individuals in my life.

I had lost my parents.

My chest was constricted so tightly that every breath I took felt like it was my last and my head spun until the black dots returned to my eyesight. Dr. Styles' worried voice and the hammering on of the heart rate monitor were the only two things I could hear around me. I couldn't even hear myself wail.

"Annabelle, take a deep breath."

From between the frantically radical heart beat I can hear Dr. Styles' voice off in the distance. I can feel his hands on my shoulders and his eyes on my body, but I cannot see him.

"You need to try and take a deep breath or you're going to send yourself into a further panic. We don't want that."

Despite all the pain of losing my parents and the want to just let myself go through with the panic attack, just so I could feel, I knew I couldn't. Despite wanting to let myself wail on for hours, I can't just bring myself to.

Down the hall sits an always happy boy named Edward, who is surely unaware of the pain of losing our parents. I need to be there for him, because there's no one else. I cannot spiral into a panic, that will only result in tiring myself out completely and the emotional trauma is potentially far worse.

"There you go, that's it." Dr. Styles coaxes as my vision begins to return to normal and my limbs stop shaking. The tears continue to run down my cheeks, but I pay no mind to them as the pain my chest slowly begins to decrease.

I had the strength to pull myself from the brink of panic, but that didn't mean I have the strength to stop my blubbering. I've the right to cry for my loss, even if crying was something my father always told me not to do.

Those grey eyes are too pretty to be clouded with tears.

"Did they suffer?" I find myself asking, despite not knowing if I really want the answer.

My blurry eyes find Dr. Styles at my side, his hand still resting on my unstitched shoulder.

"I don't believe so, no."