I sit down in my seat and cover my face with my hands. Why am I so flustered from walking to class with my roommate?? That’s a perfectly normal thing people do all the time!
I fiddle with my braid, admiring Laurence’s work; smiling to myself - he really did do a good job.
“Alright, let’s have a recap on ethnocentrism - what can anyone tell me about it?” The teacher stares right at me. “Asher? What do you remember?”
I let out a tiny sigh. Not much, that’s my whole issue.
I grab my notes and flip to the correct page. I can do this. It’s just talking in front of my class. I’m ok.
That’s a lie, I can already feel the pressure building in my chest.
In my head.
I’m not okay.
I can’t read the words in front of me.
I can’t.
I can’t do it.
My head hurts.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Am I drowning?
“Ok anyone else have anything on ethnocentrism?”
I swallow, but my mouth is bone dry. Thank God. I’m okay. I’m okay.
It’s like my mantra: if I say it enough, it’ll become true. Right?
—————
Finally my class is let out and I feel like I’m about to throw up. I can breathe, now at least. But my head hurts as much as when a memory comes back.
I try and manoeuvre my way to the toilets; I have to get there. I feel so sick. There’s too many people. They’re everywhere. Are they all looking at me? Why are they looking at me?
I keep pushing my way towards the bathrooms, but once I get out the other side of the crowd, I have no clue where I am.
Fuck.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It feels like my heart is about to rip itself from my chest. I gulp for more air but it’s not working.
I’m actually drowning.
I sit against the wall, sliding down it and curling my arms around my knees as I cover my face. I just want this to be over. My head and heart are about to explode.
Please, just let me breathe.
I try and focus on the things around me; that’s what always got me out of my panic attacks before. You focus on what you can see, what you can hear, what you can feel.
All I can hear is myself gasping for breath.
Wow, is that what I sound like? No wonder people were staring at me, I sound like I’ve just run a marathon.
I have to focus on what I can see next. I have to open my eyes to do that. I don’t want to ever open my eyes again. I just want this to be over.
“Asher?” A soothing hand lands on my shoulder. I look up to see Laurence’s piercing blue eyes clouded with concern.
I try and say hi, but I can’t stop gasping for air. “Hey, hey, you’re ok.” He crouches down in front of me, pulling me into his embrace.
“You’re ok, you’re ok. Try and slow your breathing. You’re hyperventilating.” Laurence massages my back, holding me to him. I grab onto his shirt, burying my face in it.
“Ssh, ssh. You’re ok. You’re ok.” Slowly, my breathing rate returns to normal, although my heart is still hammering in my chest.
I suspect that’s a side effect from being hugged by a hot dude though.
I release my death-grip on his shirt and pull away, wiping the tears from my face. “Sorry, I got your shirt damp.” He smiles, not letting go of my forearm.
“Hey that’s chill. You ok now?” He stares straight into my eyes, concern still lingering there. “Yeah,” I run a shaky hand through my hair framing my face.
“It’s been a while since I had one so I kind of forgot what to do with them” I bite my lip and look at my knees, resting my arms on them.
“You get them a lot?” Laurence asks, letting go of my arm slowly. I meet his gaze again. “Um, yeah. I think. I’ve been told I did.” I close my eyes and do a mental eye-roll.
He’s going to think I’m so weird.
“Oh…okay.” He stands up, extending his hand to me. “Want to eat lunch with me?” I smile gratefully and he pulls me up. I side-eye him.
“You sure? I might be too cool for you.” I grin and he elbows me, still holding my hand from when he helped me to stand.
He laughs, shaking his oceanic curls. “I’d be honoured if your majesty graces myself and my friends with your presence.” I giggle and give his hand a light squeeze.
Grinning, I reply “Well, you did help me so I guess I can humour you this time.”
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