She was finally alone. Lost in her stories. Free from her panic. There was no escape from the pain she would feel when they happened. Those moments of sheer terror that no one could explain. She would try to tell them, but they would just smile and nod. Smile and nod. They had never understood what she went that when they happened. They would start with a feeling that she needed to run and hide. It was horrible, but she could ignore it. They could see them coming when she pushed them down like that. They would see them coming and egg them on. Finding them funny. Finding them as a new excuse to abuse her. She could hear them laughing. Her first major one had been the worse. She hadn’t known what was going on. She could remember it all clearly. They had been a competition for something. It hadn’t mattered what. The parents wanted to take a picture. She was the tallest. They pushed her to the back. She didn’t like it. She was claustrophobic. She wanted out. She felt it coming, but she pushed it down. It would be worse if they saw whatever it was that was coming. The parents couldn’t get everyone in the picture. They were shoved closer and closer. She felt more and more panicked. She felt like there was no escape. She could barely get a breath in without it getting worse. Her friend looked up at her and laughed. It seemed like the loudest sound in the room. It echoed around her head. She lost it. She shoved her way free and fell to the ground. Tears rolled down her face. They wanted to know what she was doing. She screamed at them, terror clear on her face. She only had one conscious thought. What was she doing? She was panicking. She cried. They would never look at her the same. They never sat with her on the bus after. They would always think she was losing her mind every time it happened. She tried to hide it. She tried to make it disappear. She talked to doctor. She talked to shrinks. No one could really help her. She was on her own. She needed it all to end. She was viewed as a weakling. She wasn’t weak. She was stronger than any of them, but she couldn’t show them. Not without putting herself out there. Setting herself up for another. Recently they had been getting worse. More constant. What if one happens at church? What if one happened while she’s competing? Or during a test? Or a party? Or prom? Or when her friends were around and wouldn’t understand? It’s not like she could easily tell them if one happened to start suddenly. She couldn’t get a word out. She’d break down crying for no apparent reason. She hated that. She couldn’t live with that. She looked to God. There was nothing she could do without feeling that terror. Without having a panic attack. She knew it. She held her tears in and prayed. Could she keep being strong? Why should she have to make this decision? It’s not her fault she had this problem. She shouldn’t have to keep dealing with these fears, rational or not. But she would. She still had things to do. She set aside her dangerous thoughts, knowing what was in store for her future but choosing to let it happen anyway. She just had to control them. But how do you control something that has no cause? The cause was all she needed. Finding the cause is her only hope of ever having a truly normal life. Of course, there is no real cure for fear. Fear itself would come back with no reason at all. She let herself slip into the oncoming panic and cried. She had her monster and the monsters it created when it showed itself. They were unbearable. She struggled to get her breath. As her breathing slowed, it passed. She took the first deep breath she could for what felt like hours. The she reach for the knife on the other side of the bed. She would make them stop. She plunged the knife through her chest. No scream came out. If there had been any her fear had strangled it. Now they would see they were wrong, she thought as she let her breathing stop. It was over. The fear was finally gone.