Agent Reptilian: Exploiting Gold|editing

Chapter twelve: "Have you got any more Sushi?"

Idk if this is even needed but a character suffers from PTSD in this chapter so here's a warning incase you need it.

I hadn't noticed until I heard the bathroom door slam shut loudly, how closely we were sitting to the lavatory. It reminded me of that day, that awful day. Memories flooded through me, overwhelming my body. Every part of my body felt heavy, the blood pumping through it suddenly felt like it was weighing down my head, my fingers, my legs. At the same time my head felt light, my chest feeling sharp pain, as if someone's fist was squeezing my heart.

I collapsed onto the leather seat, my bag fallen on the ground somewhere. My hand clenched onto the soft padding of the seat underneath me and I held it tightly, not giving a damn that my knuckles were as white as a ghost or that I now was seated in between Mademoiselle Picket and Nix, the one thing I was trying to avoid this entire time. 

I could feel my heart racing in it's cage and glanced down at my other hand that wasn't grasping the seat. It was trembling like buildings during an earthquake. My face felt hot and I could only imagine what my hair looked like. It was a good idea that I had wrapped my bandana around my hair to conceal the potential colour changes.  

Feeling like hands were reaching out of every direction and grasping a part of my body, I began ripping off the layers I had just put on from protection against the cold and tossing them off of me. A pile of winter gear sat on the floor, looking absolutely ridiculous for someone going to Miami, but I didn't care. The bandana stayed on, it was what kept me from revealing who I was and exposing the truth to others.

In. Out. In. Out. My breath quickened and I realized what I needed: to leave. To leave before he comes out of the bathroom and hurts me. Before he turns me into an homo reptilian all over again. Before I have to go through the unbearable pain and torture of that day. 

Using every ounce of strength I could muster up in the moment, I pushed my wobbly legs off of the seat, clutching a small white pillow close to my chest and attempted to slide out of the aisle. Something grabbed my wrist and yanked me back and I fell on the tiny patch of space on the floor, on top of the clothing I had shed. Oh no, he's got me hasn't he?

"Please, please, oh please don't. Please don't." I croaked out and my arms covered my curled up body on the floor.

"Al, what's wrong?" Nix...I think pulled me back up and gently placed me on the seat. I started hyperventilating. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. My breath had quickened, faster than ever before. 

"I-I" I glanced at Mademoiselle Picket who was watching me with maybe concern in her eyes.

"I'm going to be back." She got up and left the seat. Nix placed her cold hand on my face and pulled me back to meet her gaze.

"Al, you need to tell me what's happening." She whispered. I slowly shut my eyes and felt a tear spilling out and gently landing on my hand and one rolling down my cheek. The man's going to hurt us if we don't leave. But I don't understand how he could be back, I had escaped. He was dead, so how can he be back? It's just not possible.

"I-I d-don't kn-now. I-I'm s-so s-cared. I-" She lifted the tiny arm seat between us, pushing it back and pulling me instead towards her. I shrieked from her touch on me and immediately pushed her away but she didn't seem startled.

"Get away from me. I need to get out of here." With shaky hands and erratic breathing, I once again got up from the seat and started making my way out the aisle. Someone pulled me and forced me to sit down. I let out a cry. I was going to die this time. They've got me and I had nothing in me to defend myself. 

I no longer could focus on my surroundings. Even though I had felt anxious before in my life, stressed and scared to death, I had never experienced anything like this. It's like-I feel like I'm about to die and I-I just don't want to be taken away. I'm not ready yet.