It was normal, in your current frame of reference, for your heart to pound during the games. The anticipation of tug of war had seemed to last for hours. Every gunshot you had heard during these games made your heart stop, like it was afraid it would be heard if it dared to beat. You had played every game so far in absolute tears, unable to control when you started and stopped crying.

You couldn't eat your corn. You had tried. Even two little kernels felt like a huge bite of dry bread. You were balled up on your bunk, still shaking. Still shaking.

The sight of those dead players on the floor below was burned into your brain. You had lost your one friend and you never even learned her name. Player 404. Lost forever. Through a screen of tears you watched the loud woman both celebrate and berate her new teammates. She was insufferable, but you supposed at least being obnoxious and fake was a marginally more dignified panic response than melting down in a useless pile of tears.

You set the ear of corn aside and gripped the ladder tightly with two hands. The cold steel dug into your flesh, grounding you. Your jaw was shut tight, teeth grinding against each other for comfort. The heart in your chest felt hot and sick, running a marathon it hadn't trained for. Why was this still happening? The game was over! Too many games. No way out. Too many. No way out. No comfort. No help. No way out, no way out, no way out- "Aaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" The shout came out of you without permission. You didn't check to see if people were looking at you, you were certain they were. Scrambling blindly for your pillow, you smashed it into your face, stifling your panicked cries as you tried to stop them from coming out in the first place.

God this was embarrassing. Crying like a little child! You knew everybody was thinking it. You knew people were laughing at you. The thoughts of being ridiculed only made you cry harder.

"No, no no no no no no no no," you repeated into your pillow. Retreating into the middle of your bed, you cried openly. Part of you hoped you would cry until the beginning of the next game and they would have no choice but to swiftly shoot you in the head. But the end of that thought was so horrifying, it made you scream again.

"Hey! Hey!" Somebody was shaking you, firmly but gently. "Stop screaming, please!"

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed, sitting up, trying to dry up your river of tears so you could see. "I'm sorry. I have an anxiety disorder and I'm not—I'm not—I'm not—"

"No, please, it's okay!" It was 199, the sweet-faced boy that so many people targeted for being an immigrant. The look on his face wasn't one of annoyance but of concern. "Nobody is mad at you for crying."

Your breathing was uneven. You tried to catch up to it and at least take a deeper breath than you had been. "They're not?"

"Well some people probably," he said, gesturing over to 101 and his squad of thugs. "But who cares about those guys, huh?"

You could tell from his smile that he was trying to make you laugh, and so you gave him something that was sort of like a laugh, more like a burst of breath and a nod. "I guess."

"I'm sorry for shaking you a moment ago," he said. "Is it okay to touch you?"

You blinked rapidly, taken aback by such a kind offer in such a terrible place.

"Uh—ye-yeah."

He rested his hand on your shoulder, smiled at you, and took a slow, deep breath. You felt the tears trembling in your eyes again, nervous that you would upset him if you started to cry while he was being nice. His hand stayed casually on your shoulder like you were old friends, and he looked out across the room, calmly, taking another deep breath.

You weren't going to last. You started crying again. "Fuck I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," he reassured, giving your shoulder a light pat. "You can cry. It's okay."

"Nobody else is crying," you whined, falling into another sob.

He looked back at you with pain in his eyes. "Of course they are. Everybody in here is scared. Everybody in here is sad."

"Well I don't hear them crying."

"Well maybe they don't hear you," he suggested.

You doubted that very much, considering you had just screamed like an insane person. But as you looked around, you realized people really were minding their own business. Even if anybody else had heard you, nobody had come over to tell you to shut up, or yelled nasty things at you.

He took another deep breath and looked away from you again. This time, it reminded you to breathe. The air filled your lungs in an unbroken breath this time, a refreshing feeling after crying so hard.

After a few more of these deep breaths, your head beginning to buzz from the new flow of oxygen, you uncurled yourself and sat on the side of the bed with him.

"Your name is Ali, right?"

He gave you a toothy smile, truly excited to be known. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I overheard," you said. "Your group is pretty loud." You gave him your name as you looked on to the group of people he had surrounded himself with. Some of them seemed like good people. "Did you know any of them outside?"

"No," he said. "I haven't had a chance to make that many friends in Korea. My friends are my wife, my son, and my coworkers."

Your heart broke for him. "You have a wife and a child?"

He nodded quickly. "I'm in here for them. All of this is for them."

"You miss them a lot, huh?"

His head bowed a little bit. "My wife has an anxiety disorder, as well. I spent a lot of time trying to understand it with her, and understand what I can do to help her."

You took a slower breath. Your head began to feel more clear.

"I'm very worried for her," he continued. "When I was gone the first time, she had no idea where I was or how long I would be gone. I tried to tell her as much as I could for this time, but..." He sighed, taking his hand off you. "I have been so worried about her, I had a panic attack this morning. It was horrible. I thought I was dying. I always thought I knew what she was going through, but until today...I did not."

You took another deep breath. "It's good to hear about a couple caring about each other."

He smiled more softly. "What about you? Do you have a partner?"

A thousand thoughts flooded your head at the same time. You felt your heart rate picking back up. "I don't really wanna talk about that right now."

"That's okay."

"Can...I have a hug?"

He turned to you and smiled, nodding as he opened his arms wide. You hugged him around the waist and his arms encircled you, squeezing you securely. The hug lasted for a few good, long seconds, and you remembered how long you had gone without a hug.

Before pulling away you gave him a secure squeeze, feeling the hot sting of your tear-chapped cheeks.

"Do you want to come join the group?" he asked, getting up. "If not we are still friends and you can come find me whenever you want."

You looked from him to the group sitting around. "I think I will join you guys."

He smiled widely and offered you a hand. "Great! Let's go!"