•Lost• (Palaye Royale X Fan)

•Chapter Twenty Three•

Panic. A feeling of terror that can be caused by anything. There is so many types of panic and so many ways, thousands and billions of ways to cause the feeling of panic. Any scenario andy situation any person any conversation and panic could occur. Even in any emotion. For Morgan who suffers with anxiety when panic occurs even when the slightest trace of it appears it can increase in seconds. Overpowering her body. Her mind. Controlling her like a puppet. Sometimes she can get free quicker than others. This time she was red hot with sweat. Her camera was slipping through her fingers, her kneck sticky and hot, her eyelids heavy but wide open. What happened last night? The thought suffocated her brain. Coiling round again and again restricting her trail of thought. Although not the most common nor high level of situation for her to feel this way, when you have a picture of you kissing your idol passionately and consentingly, I'm sure you forehead and skin would sweat and crawl.

After a few techniques that Morgan ran through in her head, focusing on her breathing. She began to clam down. The rush over. Just persuasive emotions clouding her judgement. They were soon abolished and the young photographer clicked through the cameral roll of her blue Nickon. All thoughts of Remington pass for a while as she sat alone. That was until Emerson appeared beside her clearly as hungover as she thought the rest of the group would be. "May I look?" He questioned, before she could answer Emerson sat beside her leaning against the wall for support facing to view the small screen. "Impressive! I'm really starting to like your work....not that I didnt like it before I mean I love its fantastic i would never have said that meiwbisw.aus...." Emerson started to mumble excuses. "Its fine. Honestly. How long were you all out until?"
"Most of stayed outside, Sebastian made it back to his bed is see" he gestured to the closed curtain bunk in front of them, "I've just returned so I might head to bed," he began to take of his waist coat, scarfs and place his pocketed pens on the floor. "Oh here have your socks back," Morgan began to peel them off "no no!" Emerson explained with a look of slight disgust on his face then smiled "you keep them oh..." he trail off though wondered as he proceeded to doodle the bands logo onto the side of the sock. "That looks so cool, what about a cross and an x?" Morgan creatively questioned, "I think this would be better..." Emerson wrote words upon the bottom of Morgans foot, not caring of how gross this actually is, "B. A. S....Bastards?" Morgan looked confused, Emerson just tapped his nose in silence, "when its confirmed I'm sure Remmy will tell you straight away, with that i better get some shut eye. Goodnight Ma Cherie..." the pirate began to stand and dust himself off that's when suddenly an all too familiar bald man in dark clothing entered the room, his familiar grin of humour was replaced with woe and people in uniform followed after his entrance. They all stood taller than Morgan instantly rising the panic feeling at rapid speed. She felt intimidated. And she began to feel scared. Her scarred knees shook and Emerson retreated back against the wall next to the photographer. "What's going on boss?" The drummer questioned. "The police need to bring Morgan in for questioning,". And as quick as a flash, morgans panic feeling skyrocketed without the knowledge of why. Why did they want to talk? Why her?.....