Hi! This is basically just a short drabble about Stiles and how I think he got his panic attacks. I didn't bother to do any research (sadly) so this is purely just an interpretation of how I think a panic attack feels. Anyways, thanks for clicking and enjoy!
He's only 12 and he wonders how breathing is possible right now. How he's not catatonic and broken.
The hospital is white and clean. And it feels like he's swallowed bleach. Like a toxin has entered his body and white-washed all the emotion away in a bubbling swirl of chemicals, like he has been gutted and hollowed to the point of being nothing more than a simple body. The smell of germicide has created a permanent stain on the inside of his mouth and the ugly, pale, wallpapered walls seem to be closing in day by day. Still, he has managed to find entertainment in the nurses and the vending machines.
He guesses that with all the bad this hospital represents it did give him one thing…focus. His mind doesn't seem to jump as speedily as usual. Then again, that may be because the only other occupant in the room, who is currently dead to the world, weights it.
Beside his stiff chair and his stiff body the heart monitor beeps steadily. Beep. Beep. Beep. It's both the most reassuring and threatening thing he has yet to face. Excluding middle school girls.
"Scott and I got called down to the principal today." He says to the sleeping patient.
"We played some stupid prank."
There is not motion, no activity, not outside of him and the heart monitor.
"I'm sorry, Mom, it will never happen again. I promise."
Then he goes quiet. This boy, barely even a teenager, sits silently next to the weakening body of his mother.
He still doesn't exactly know what her diagnosis is, just that it's fatal and that he can now hold his mother's wrist between his pinky and thumb without any stretch.
Suddenly the beeping picks up. BEEP. BEEP. .
He doesn't know what's happening. His eyes flick between the machine, jittering on its table, and the still form on the bed.
"Mom?" he calls anxiously, his throat is beginning to close up.
What is going on?
. .
"Mom?"
He looks around unsure what to do.
He should call for help but like a shock through his body he can't work his mouth, he's paralyzed.
.
The noise is getting louder and he's still frozen. 'Call for help!' Where is help?
Instantly, nurses and doctors break through the closed door, rushing to the patient, pushing the boy away. "I need an oxygen bag and a does of epinephrine, stat!.."
They are speaking gibberish. Their hands are flying in and out of his sight. And he's suddenly pushed to the back corner, trapped to this hideous white wall.
He can't move, he can't think, he does understand. WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
And then the world shifts, tilts. All he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and all he can feel is the stutter of his heart as people go frantic over his mother. He can't breathe, a weight, a clutch is on his lungs and his body is spasming. He can't form thought; only feel the thrum of his body as it bounces like electricity, unctrollably.
Where is he? What is happening?
"Mom" He barely gasps as his body shuts down and falls to the white laminate tile.
He's heaving, he's sobbing, and he's dying. He knows it. This is the end. He's dying.
His eyes are blinking, searching for clarity and his brain is twisting, trying desperately to find anything, to focus. Where is the oxygen? What is happening?
And like the monitor, still screeching near his mom, he stops. He faints. The monitor flat lines in an instant and moans like a wolf to the full moon.
When he wakes up he is greeted by the face of one of the nurses, by Scott's mom.
"Hey honey, are you okay?" She asks while gently manhandling him upright.
"What happened?"
"You had a panic attack, but you're gonna be fine."
"Where's my mom?"
And then her face goes blank.
In a second the gravity around him falls out. He knows what happened. He killed his mother.
Stiles crumples like the pathetic human he is. Helpless and unable to even call for it.
"I-I-I sh-should've called for help" he chokes out, tears streaming, face flushed.
His hands are shaking and for a brief moment he wonders if it's another panic attack. Alas reality is not that sweet and he is forced to focus on this, on his mistake.
"It's okay, it's okay, it'll be okay, Stiles." Mrs. McCall says, encircling the shaking boy in her arms.
Through wild tears he manages to shake his head, but then succumbs to the devastation racking his body.
No. It will never be okay. It's hell.
Thank you for reading and feel free to review! :)