Hi again! It's time for another chapter. Man, school is coming up fast. Going back on Tuesday, I'm not ready ;_; Not to mention my laptop is out of commission… but I must press on!

Please enjoy the chapter.

I didn't know where to start, and therefore suffered through two long minutes of sitting on the floor and awkwardly staring at each other. Sandy was looking at me patiently, and after a while of looking at that face, I finally opened my mouth.

"Kosmotis Pitchiner Black. 19 years old, in college. No major, no friends, no family." I propped up my elbows on my legs and rested my head in my arms. "That's a basic outline."

What do you mean by that? Sandy wrote. No friends or family?

"It means what it sounds like. I have no friends and I have no family. It's…a long story." I looked away. As much as I fought it, those memories kept coming back. And now I was expected to talk about it…

If it's painful for you, you don't have to tell me. Sandy gave me a tiny smile. I shook my head.

"No…it's…it's alright. They're not dead or anything." I sighed bitterly. "They're just…gone."

Gone?

"They…" Dammit. I was over this. I'd told myself I was over this. But sure enough, my voice was shaking. There were no tears, thank god. But I sounded nowhere near as level as I wanted to.

Why wasn't…I over this?

Sandy placed his hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw him looking earnestly at me. He slowly sat back on his knees. I cleared my throat, looking back down at the floor. A moment later, a paragraph made its way into my vision as Sandy pushed his notebook in front of me.

Sanderson Mansnoozie, 18 years old, managed to skip freshman year somehow. Wants to be a zoologist, but has interests in paleontology, marine biology, and astrology. A few friends, a mom, a distant aunt that hasn't been seen in several years. Loves video games, snacks, beaches, naps, and the night sky. Experience in child care, also likes planes. Was in JROTC for two years in high school. Wants pilot license.

"Pilot license?" I couldn't help but ask. Sandy nodded, a bigger smile appearing on his face.

I love the sky, so flying would be a really great experience, you know?

"I see. And you were in JROTC in high school?" Sandy nodded.

"Well, it seems we have one thing in common. I was, too." I laughed, but there was little humor in it. "I got discharged, though." Sandy gave me a clearly surprised look, and I laughed again, but this time with considerably more bitterness.

"Yeah. Bad behavior, slipping grades, some backtalk and I was out."

Oh? You don't seem like the type.

"Type?"

The rebellious,bad-boy type.

"Then what type am I?"

My question hung in the air for a moment. Sandy seemed to be thinking, but he didn't write anything down. I rolled my eyes and looked back at the floor again.

"It was my parents' dream for me." There was no laugh I could spare this time. "Be stellar, be great, grow up and be a hero. But I got caught up, I guess. I got caught up with the villains instead. I turned into the guy no-one wants their kids meeting or hanging around. My parents tried to change that. They tried to fix me…fix me like a dog. Fix me with bribes and arguments that turned into insults and threats. And in the end, I couldn't be a villain or a hero. In the end I was just nothing."

Sandy was silent, so I continued.

"I didn't fit. Too much of a disappointment to both parties, and in the end I was just nothing at all. Not worth anyone's time. No praise and eventually no hatred, either. I wasn't anything to anyone anymore. I used to think that…that I was just floating through my own world of nothing. And you know, eventually, something came back, but it wasn't good for me. I was a freak of human nature. In the eyes of people my age, I'm like some drifter, too loose with my tastes and interests to deserve a home anywhere, and because of that, p-people…"

Sandy was holding out a tissue for me, and when I didn't take it he wiped the tears off my cheeks himself. That finally made me register my situation, and I recoiled from him, mortified. I held my head in my hands, gripping my hair even, but it did nothing to stop the flood of pain surging up from my memory.

"No…"

I felt sick. I felt dizzy. My head, my stomach, my ears. My throat; I was choking up. My body was trembling. I couldn't open my eyes and I was getting lightheaded.

Sandy's hand was stroking my back. I still could barely breathe. I felt his other hand lead one of mine away from my head. He was holding my hand. After a minute, still sick and choked up, I pulled away from him and pulled my bed drawer open. I took out my night bag and stumbled out of the room without a word.

One might think I was too distraught to even notice the few people in the bathroom at that early hour. It was the exact opposite. I felt as if every word, every glance, was at me. That they would turn around at any second and look, look and see me here like this. I knew it wasn't true. I did. But I thought it anyway. I practically bounded into the shower stall and slammed the door shut. I hastily stripped down and put on my shower shoes, and got in before the water temperature evened out. The first cold streaks contrasted the hot tears on my face, and the sudden harsh warmth matched them. I managed to fix the temperature and let out a sigh. I still felt dizzy, but now no-one could see. I breathed in slowly, breathed out slowly. Three seconds in, three seconds out. Closed my eyes. Opened them again. Looked at the water falling from the shower head. Breathed in, breathed out.

I didn't leave the shower until my head stopped spinning. My senses exhausted, I dried off and put on my pajamas before heading back to the room. Sandy was still there, looking worried and apologetic. I don't know what expression my face showed him, but I dropped my bag on the floor and crawled into bed, pulling the covers all the way up.

We're ending on a rather serious note, folks. I don't think this spoils anything, but it's already too important not to mention. Anxiety attacks happen. A lot of times, we aren't ready for them. It's a very real situation. Sandy did his best to help, and that's wonderful, but like Pitch, there will be times when one has to deal with attacks on their own, and one might not always be able to calm themselves down so easily. I recommend webMD for articles on how one can help someone who is going through an attack.

Thank you very much for reading. I'm trying my best to portray the situations here in a real way, so please give me advice when you can.