Matt leaned against the wall and slowly slid down while the panic began to set in. He screamed as loud as he could and banged the back of his right hand on the wall.
"Matt!" Foggy yelled. He ran over to help him. When he reached him, he put his hand on his shoulder and all Matt could do was flinch. He started pushing Foggy away. The more he tried to help him, the more fear he experienced. "Matt what are you doing?"
"Who are you?!" Matt yelled. Foggy flinched, himself, and took a step back.
"What are you talking about?" He asked. No reply. All he saw was his best friend backing away from him with a look of absolute fear on his face. "Come on, man, what are you talking about?" Still no reply. He started to worry even more.
When Matt reached the corner between his bedroom and the wall of windows, he put both hands on his head. He groaned in pain. Foggy ran over towards him and put both hands on his shoulders. Again, he fought it. He grabbed an arm and tried to fight but he couldn't. When he did, his face got close to Foggy's hand and he recognized the smell.
"Foggy!" He yelled. "I can't hear!" He put his hands on the wall and slowly started to stand up. He looked like he was heading to his bed, so Foggy helped him.
"Man, I should take you to a hospital." Foggy said. Right as he did, Matt regained his hearing.
"No. No hospitals." He said.
"You were screaming! You lost your hearing! You tried to fight me, Matt!"
"I'm fine, now, Foggy. It was nothing."
"You were screaming!"
"Now you're screaming."
"I'm staying here for a little while in case that happens again."
"Thanks Foggy." Matt started to get under the covers.
"You could have died, Matt." Foggy whispered to himself.
"But I didn't." He tried. "I'm fine."
"I told you to stop doing that!" He spontaneously yelled. Matt let out a cry of pain.
"Sorry." He said. He turned over and closed his eyes.
Matt woke up and slowly pushed the covers off of himself. He got up to grab a drink when he noticed Foggy had left. He sighed and thought about what they'd said to each other. What Foggy did when he'd listened to his under-the-breath statement. He felt bad about the stress it was causing his best friend but he's stubborn. He can't let this go.
They were hanging on meat hooks, Foggy. He thought. People are gonna die. I need to help.
When he started towards the kitchen, again, he suddenly hit his leg on the couch. His hearing was gone again. He tried not to panic but it started to get to him. Foggy had left and he had no one to help him. What if Karen came by? His mind raced and he started to hyperventilate again.
If you're really stressed out, slow your breathing. Four seconds in, four seconds out. Four seconds in, four seconds out. It'll put your heart rate at a more steady pace and the stress will start to melt away. It won't be completely gone but it'll take it down, some. He heard in his head. He remembered that from something his dad was watching for after the fights if he'd lost. Four seconds in. Four seconds out.
He inhaled, counting the seconds in his head. He exhaled counting the seconds, again. He did it until the stress started to "melt away". He leaned his head against the hard brick wall and waited. Maybe Foggy would come back or his hearing would. Whichever was fine. As long as it wasn't Karen or someone trying to kill him, he was happy with it. Well—happy is a bit strong. More…content.
Suddenly, he felt something. He tilted his head and faced forward. He snaps. He sighs with a look of utter relief. He attempts to clear the blood from his upper lip and stands. Almost on queue, he hears a banging at the door and speedily walks towards the hallway to find out who's there. Karen.
Shit. He thought.