by Darcia Helle
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
All Tyler had to do was keep breathing. Breathing was essential. Even breathing would bring calm, stabilize his temperature, and keep him thinking clearly.
He struggled to remember what he had learned to fight off panic attacks.
One, look at your surroundings and name everything.
He looked around and began to name. Door. Window. Moon through the window. Dresser. Closet. Desk. Computer. Chair. Little table. Lamp. Bed.
Two, establish where you are in the room in accordance to the things you listed.
The door was behind him and the closet behind him to his left. The large window was on the wall directly to his left and the desk was under that. The dresser was along the wall directly to his right, about three steps away. The bed and the little desk right next to it on the right were right in front of him. With three long strides, he would be at the foot of the bed.
Three, repeat for as long as necessary that you are not in danger.
He almost smiled at that one. No, he was not in danger. He was not in danger. He repeated the phrase in his head once for every step he took until he was at the side of the bed by the little table with the lamp. He looked at the lamp, its shade decorated with a design of purple lilacs and frilly lace all around the base of it. Turning toward the table, he got as close to it as possible and stared down in through the hole at the top of the shade at the light bulb. He continued to stare until his eyes watered and pained him.
Maybe. Maybe if he just couldn't see, then everything would go away. As a child he'd loved putting his hands over his eyes. If he couldn't see it, it wasn't there. Yet, when he looked back to the bed, everything remained the same, despite the large grey spot in his line of sight.
The grey slowly faded and still everything remained the same.
Bed. Blankets. Pillows. Adrianna. Light purple pillow stuffed thick with batting.
Swallowing hard, he took the pillow and examined it, the same lilac and lace pattern on the lamp echoed along the edge of the pillow. He stared at the pillow until he could calm his breathing enough to look back at the bed. At Adrianna. At his sister. His perfect, perfect sister.
He swallowed hard again, trying to stiffen his muscles so he wouldn't tremble. How... How could something happen to his beautiful, perfect sister? No one hated her. She was practically angelic, but not in a flaunty way that annoyed people. She was the embodiment of what a person should be. How could anything ever happen to her?
"How..." he whispered, staring down at her as his arms twitched with the effort of trying to stay still.
"How?" he asked of the room, loud enough to make Adrianna moan in her sleep. "Tyler did it."
Grinning, he relaxed his body and rested the pillow over her face, slowly adding more pressure...
