Fear.
That was the only thing she felt.
After she'd slid down the wall, one hand over her pounding heart, all she could do was wait for it to stop.
She knew what was happening. She'd seen it on TV a few times.
She just hadn't realised how scary it actually was.
She wanted Mike. She knew Mike would know what to do, how to calm her.
But he wasn't there.
And he wouldn't be coming either. It wasn't like she could call him and ask him to come: she could barely speak, having given up after only just getting a word out.
So she did the next best thing.
She imagined him.
She imagined he was there with her, imagined what he would say. It calmed down her thoughts, not that she'd lost control of them anyway.
It was unfortunate it had no effect on her body.
She still couldn't breathe. Her heart was still pounding.
She didn't know how to stop it.
All the imagined calming words in the world were useless when none of them gave any answers.
However, she continued to focus on Mike, talking things through with her, telling her she was alright, putting his hand gently on her back.
Seems her vivid childhood imagination was finally coming in handy.
There was nothing she could do but stay there as the panic attack ran its course. Just wait.
Finally it stopped. She took a few deep breaths before the tears came. She didn't know why it had happened. Yes, Cam had shouted at her, but instead of shouting back she'd just frozen, unable to do anything more.
She was sitting there, still catching her breath, when it started again. She had not yet taken her hand from her chest, her pounding heartbeat showing no signs of slowing down, and now again she was frozen in position until it ended.
Thankfully it was over relatively quickly, and with the ending came a fresh wave of tears.
She sat on the floor for a few seconds longer before she shakily got to her feet. As she got changed into her pyjamas the tears didn't let up, not stopping even after she had turned out the light and crawled into bed, clutching a toy that had been sitting on her shelf.
She was still scared now, even with it over. Not knowing why it had happened, nor how to stop it, terrified her. If it happened again she would be in no better position than she had been half an hour ago, despite having just been through it.
Not wanting to think any more she closed her eyes, hoping despite the panic she would be able to sleep.
She had work tomorrow.
She sighed, knowing she had to go (it would look suspicious and get her into more trouble if she didn't), but at the same time wishing she could stay curled up in bed forever.
To be honest, though, at least work would get her out of the house.
Even that small train of thought showed her just how confused she was.
The question also lingered in her mind: whether to tell.
Her gut told her no.
She didn't know why, but it felt like something that should be kept secret.
Besides, she couldn't think of anyone she wanted to tell.
She was also scared they wouldn't believe her. She couldn't really explain that one either, but the doubt stayed.
She wouldn't tell.
Even though she could already feel it eating her from the inside.
She had to keep this to herself.
She tried to settle, trying to imagine happy things.
It wasn't working.
She didn't know then, but this was just the start.
Allowing it to eat away at her for three months before she finally told someone wasn't going to do her any good.
Going through this again and again, each time just as scary as the last, and much more frustrating, wouldn't either.
It would eventually break her.
She would want to be happy, and may be for a while, but something would always come to ruin it.
Something always did.
And even when she was happy it would linger in the back of her mind, ready to strike at any moment.
She would have no one to turn to, bottling everything up inside until it became too much.
And even those who wanted to help would eventually be shut out.
She didn't want to be a burden, but at the same time wanted all the love she could get.
The love she believed in, anyway.
For now she just had to focus on getting through the night, then the next day.
It would be hard, and she knew that.
But she was determined.
Yes she'd be sad, yes she'd want to tell, but she would deal with it on her own.
Less people than the number she could count on her fingers, on one hand, would know the whole truth.
Even then, they wouldn't know everything.
It would go back too far for it to even be relevant anymore.
But then something would crop up, remind her of the day it all started, the years it had gone on for.
It would feel unfair, unjust.
All she wanted was for it to be over.
She wanted it to be over now, and it had only just begun.
Thankfully, she didn't know what was to come.
If she had, she may have given up.
And she never did. It came close a few times, but she kept fighting, kept trying.
Even when she didn't care whether she lived or died.
She kept going.
She didn't even know why.
Maybe it was to do with the fact that there was always at least one person (or cat, hamster or dog) that still cared.
And she didn't want to leave them in the world alone, as she wouldn't be able to explain.
If only she'd told someone sooner. If only...
It probably wouldn't have made a difference.
It would have happened anyway.
But for now all she had to do was sleep. Her pillow and duvet was covered in tears, but there was nothing she could do about that.
She snuggled into them and cried herself to sleep.
She would have the energy to face tomorrow when she woke up.
Hopefully she'd have the energy to face the next few years, even if some nights she only slept for three hours and then was late for work.
No one really noticed anyway.
Or if they did, they didn't really care.
She would face that in the future though. She would see what it would bring.
If she was strong enough, anyway.
It was going to be a long road ahead.
And, whatever it took, she was going to have to make it out alive.