Author's Note: Hello to everyone who is reading this. Um . . . This one- shot was inspired by Cheeky Brunette's one shots about Logan's panic attacks. By the way, you should read her stories because she is awesome and so are her stories. Okay, here's my one shot and here's the thing everything is in Logan's Point of View. Hope you enjoy reading :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar.

It's been months and I'm tired. I'm tired of having my panic attacks. It's not only because I tend to make my friends worried or scared about me. It's not only because I hate the looks I get after the attack or the stress I feel before it. No, I'm tired because my mind keeps on changing reality, twisting what really is happening at that exact moment, changing it and making it into a nightmare.

I try with all the strength that I muster up to stop or at least lessen the number of times I have attacks. My friends give me their support and so does Mama Knight but their support isn't enough. It's not that I don't appreciate their help but the help that they give is just not the kind of help that could really help me. Confusing, isn't it? Well, I guess that's because you haven't experienced having a panic attack as bad as mine.

It all starts with an action or a specific look of a person. Like Camille slapping me or Mama Knight holding a knife while talking to me. As simple or as normal as it looks to a person, it isn't that simple or normal to me. Somehow, it triggers a memory; a horrible memory hidden somewhere inside my brain. To describe it, it is like an e-mail being sent. Once the picture is sent, the brain picks it up and chooses a specific memory to trigger the attack.

Then, my surroundings get blurry. Each face just becomes a blob of color and the place becomes dark. My hands begin to shake and I slowly become light headed.

And the most horrible part, the memory appears. My memories are mostly about my father who used to abuse me as a kid. He comes closer to me and in his hand is a belt or at times a knife. I scream and tell him to go away but nothing happens. He then hits me and I feel the intense pain on my skin even though all of it is just happening in my mind. My mind seems to love playing tricks on me.

At times like these, I feel like going crazy or I even decide to die to make all the pain go away. I don't know what else to do. I keep looking around but there is no escape. In the room where my father is, there are no windows and doors which make it worse because I am claustrophobic. I feel like choking and I have a huge problem in putting oxygen into my system. Stars slowly appear as screams fill my head and pain burn on my skin. I knew that in a few more minutes it would soon end and I would soon die.

But at that moment, I hear faint voices telling me to breath and focusing me back on reality. Hands were holding on to me. At first it would feel as painful as the contact of a knife on my skin but afterwards it would warm up. I hear my name being called again and again. The schedule for the day was being said to me. I would slowly go back into reality.

I open my eyes and most of the times see my friends wrecked. Tears would be flowing down from their faces and they would hug me so tightly saying that they are happy that I am 'back to normal'. I would just hug them, thank them and tell them everything will be fine and 'back to normal'.

I know I will never be normal. My past and my attacks are two things that stop me from being normal. To stop my attacks, I have to erase what happened to me in the past but I could not do that. Memories will forever be implanted in my mind no matter what I try to do to forget them. All it takes is one small action or picture and my panic attack would happen again.

I am very grateful for my friends and their determination to make me normal. But they won't be able to help me until they themselves have experienced having a panic attack and I don't want that to happen to them.

I won't keep you by telling you more but just remember this: if you think you are very unlucky, think about me and the pain that I go through and you'll see you're very lucky to be you.

As you keep that in mind, I shall be here sitting and waiting hoping that there will never be another panic attack so that I won't be enveloped in darkness, pain and despair again. But I know that, just like death, my attacks are inevitable.

Author's Note: I totally feel this is completely horrible but I really wanted to write this so badly. Please tell me if it's bad or good. Please review :)