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Chapter 1: In My Eyes (Five Things You Can See)

It wasn't new.

It had been happening long before Peter could even recall.

The first time was terrifying. Peter had felt like dying that day. The world was crashing around him, and Peter couldn't understand why. But then it happened again, and again, and again. And again.

From age eight till he was ten, it was a constant fear that Peter had. Eventually, over the two years, they become less common, and were almost rare. Peter had also learned tricks to ground him when they began; all to keep away the feeling of falling eternally.

Peter was really grateful of that. Then for the next three years, he would do research and found that he wasn't the only one who had such a problem. He read about the other tricks that people used, and Peter found himself trying them. But they never worked as well as the one that he had made for himself.

For these five years, Peter kept the problem tucked away. Even if Peter wanted to tell his aunt and uncle, he couldn't. There were many times where after sitting in the aftermath, breathing hard and trembling, Peter would try to describe the experience to himself. He never had the words that could recreate the overall unrelenting terror and panic.

But he grew stronger from them. When he was nine, he remembered being unable to stand up for an hour, hiding away, flinching at the sharpest noise. Now, he was able to stand up and walk it off, continue as though it had never happened.

It was a painful torture, but Peter would rather die than pollute others with his problems.

The funeral had ended at two. Many had left giving condolences, and that left only him and May at home.

A home now smaller.

The two of them hadn't had breakfast or lunch, nerves burning their insides like acid. They sat for hours, huddled together on the couch. Arms around each other, taking turns to openly cry on the other's shoulders. The only words spoken where grasps of mumbles, each un-understanable to the other. Peter on his part though, felt more numb than emotional. All things, but May leaning on him, was void to all his senses.

What really broke Peter's heart was what happened later.

Peter was on the floor, back to the wall, legs pulled up to his chest. 'It was so unbelievably wrong.' He thought. 'May shouldn't have to go work to support me, especially tonight.' They stayed unmoving on the couch for seven unbelievable forsaken hours. At the strike of their grandfather clock, which Ben had been always fond of, May collected herself and stood up.

Peter continued to sit stoically. He could hear the sink in the bathroom running, and the little shuffles of her feet. When May walked out, she did her own thing in the kitchen, with her purse and keys. The only words that were spoken was when May said, "I have a night shift again, so I won't be back until three. Don't be afraid to go ahead and sleep without me. And make sure you have dinner. Order anything you want, in fact. I'll be back soon. I love you."

The door was already shut by the time Peter had the guts to say "I love you" back. After all, even when his uncle was around, the L-word wasn't tossed around often. May always used larb instead, and he was entirely fine with that.

In some process of him trying to stand up to get something, he found himself where he was now.

It kept repeating in his mind, until it morphed into what he really felt. 'So wrong. So wrong. So wrong. My fault. So wrong. My fault. My fault. My fault.'

His breathing was getting harder. Peter physically had to push himself against the wall, with the room tilting so vertically. He knew what was happening. Peter had gone through many of these secret attacks in the apartment, but he couldn't do it again. He couldn't have another secret here.

He stood up shakily and braced himself against the wall. He took four steps until he fell to the floor. Everything was getting dizzy. Peter crawled his way to his balcony door. Still on the floor, he reached up pathetically, missing and the door handle. Eventually he grabbed it and was able to push open. He crawled outside to freedom.

He moved forward and sat down, leaning his throbbing head on the cool metal bars. It helped alleviate the burning heat inside him, but his vision was still swimming in and out of focus.

Peter closed his eyes, his breath hitching involuntarily when the 'not supposed to be surprising' darkness filled his dialed senses. 'O-okay. What's the fir-first step. Yeah-yeah. Five things. What do I see? What do I see.'

He counted to three before opening his eyes. For the few seconds that they were closed, he had gone entirely dull to any other sense of color. But, true to his word, he began to rattle of things that he could see.

He looked below his balcony, and he could see to the right where the street was. There were still a number of cars driving with their headlights on. He took a second to look at the cars going by. Two silver Hondas. One black BMW. A pest control van. A cruising dull gray Toyota. His chest was still spacing, but at least he was in control of his vision now. His voice was shaky and quiet. The words he spoke were immediately floated away by the wind. "I s-see cars."

He had learned over time that it was easier when he looked at different perspectives. So, instead of looking sideways at the cars, he shifted his eyes up. 'What do I see?'

"The sky..."

Peter took this second to take in the sky. 'It's dying.' That was his thought when he saw it. The sunset waster, and most of the oranges and pinks were now purple and blue. All of the bright happy colors were being sucked away, leaving only the dark empty space in its wake. Yet, it was exactly what Peter needed now.

With Peter's senses bursting, he could see the first signs of twinkling stars in the distance. They reminded him of. the random way Ben would sprinkle olives on their homemade pizzas. Peter gave a small smile. 'Hey, that counts as another thing right? Yeah. Stars. That makes three things.'

Peter looked back around him. He hadn't realized yet, but he was breathing normally. He was no longer wrapped around himself, ready to cave in at any second. He was sitting on his knees, taking in the sights around him like a newborn child with their first glimpse of the world.

"People. I see poeple." Peter's voice was a lot more confident now. Along with the cars driving past, he could see people rushing home on the sidewalks. A few husbands and wives, decked in business suits. A number of teens chatting in groups. Even a few were out for an evening jog.

He took a deep breath. "I see cars, the sky, stars, people. What's one more thing?" Peter leaned back, so hat he was crisscrossed. He stretched his arms forward, and his eyes were dawn to something on his leg.

He hadn't changed when had gotten home, so that meant that he was still wearing the suit from the ceremony. As he sat, his suit leg rode up slightly, showing off a bright gladiolus petal. 'Gladiolus. It means remembrance.'

Peter smiled to himself. 'I'm in control now.' The thought flitted through his mind. Sure things weren't looking good now, but did they ever? Will they ever? Peter had learned his mistake. He was going to help everyone, but to do that, he was going to need to help himself first.

And if he had to go through that soul crushing feeling, he would do it.

He would just take a sense and a number at a time.