Josie's hands shook as she moved through the crowd of people, her breath growing shallower with each passing second. The euphoria that had fueled her earlier had dissipated, leaving a strange hollowness in its wake. The music pounded against her chest, no longer in sync with the beat of her heart, but instead a discordant hammering that made her feel as though the walls were closing in. She blinked rapidly, her vision tunneling, faces in the crowd blurring together in a kaleidoscope of lights that suddenly felt too bright, too loud, too much.
Her pulse quickened, a sharp, frantic rhythm that set her nerves on edge. It felt like the room was swallowing her whole. She tried to ground herself, to breathe through the panic welling up in her chest, but the air in the room seemed to thicken, refusing to enter her lungs. Each inhale felt like trying to breathe through a straw, and the harder she tried to steady herself, the more the anxiety clawed its way up her throat.
Jesse's voice, once comforting, now seemed miles away. "Jo, you alright?" he asked, his smile faltering as he noticed her wide, panicked eyes. She didn't hear him—not really. His words were muffled, as though they were underwater, distorted and distant. She could only nod, too terrified to speak, fearing that if she opened her mouth, the panic would spill out in an uncontrollable wave.
The crowd pressed in tighter, the space around her shrinking. Her hands were clammy, her vision swimming as she pushed past Jesse, her movements jerky and desperate. She could feel his concerned gaze on her back, but she couldn't stop—she needed air, needed out. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, drowning out everything except the overwhelming sense that she was spiraling, losing control.
Josie stumbled through the house, her steps erratic as she bumped into people and furniture, barely able to see straight. The pounding of the music, the flashing lights, the rising heat of too many bodies—everything blurred together. Her chest tightened painfully, and her hands fumbled for her phone in a frantic motion. She didn't even think about who to call; her thumb hovered over Mike's name, instinct kicking in, even though fear churned in her gut at the thought.
Could she really call him? Could she let him see her like this?
She didn't have time to second-guess herself. Her fingers were already dialing before she had the chance to talk herself out of it. The phone rang once, twice, each tone seeming to stretch into an eternity. Her pulse was a wild, erratic drumbeat in her ears, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
"Yeah?" Mike's voice came through, calm but instantly alert. Just hearing him sent a jolt of emotion through her—a flood of relief mixed with a gut-wrenching sense of shame. She didn't deserve his concern, didn't deserve his help, but right now, she couldn't keep it together.
"I—I don't know what to do," she managed to choke out, her voice small and tight, barely recognizable even to herself. Her hand gripped the phone so hard it hurt. "I messed up, Mike. I don't know what's happening. I—" Her voice cracked, the words caught in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.
"Kid, slow down. Where are you?" Mike's voice was steady, a lifeline cutting through the fog. But Josie couldn't slow down—she felt like she was suffocating, everything pressing in on her from all sides. She slid down against the cold siding of the house, her back hitting the rough surface as her knees pulled up to her chest. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, each inhale burning her lungs.
"I'm at Jesse's. I—I thought it'd be fun. It was, but now I—I can't breathe, Mike. I don't know what's wrong with me." Her voice trembled, barely a whisper now. The weight of everything—the lies, the chaos, the mounting pressure to hold it all together—crashed down on her like a tidal wave. She was drowning, and for the first time, she couldn't find her way back to the surface.
"Okay, okay. I'm coming. Just hang on, alright?" Mike's tone shifted, calm but firm, and Josie clung to it, as though his words could tether her to reality, could somehow stop her from slipping further into the panic that gripped her chest like a vise.
"Mike, I'm scared," she admitted, her voice breaking as tears finally spilled down her cheeks. The vulnerability of the admission scared her more than the panic itself. She was always the one who had to be strong, who had to keep it together. But right now, all she wanted was to collapse, to let someone else take over for just a moment.
"I'm on my way, kid. I'll be there soon. Just stay with me, okay? Focus on my voice." Mike's reassurance was steady, unwavering, but the panic had already taken root, burrowing deeper into her chest.
Her head was spinning, the world around her fading into a blur. She was falling apart, unraveling, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to put the pieces back together again. All she could do was cling to the sound of Mike's voice, hoping it would be enough to pull her through the darkness tightening around her like a noose.
Josie's breath came in short, ragged bursts as the world around her twisted and blurred. She sat curled against the wall behind Jesse's house, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them like she could hold herself together. Every inhale felt like it wasn't enough, her chest constricting tighter with each shallow breath. The night air was supposed to be cool, calming, but it only intensified the suffocating sensation, making her head spin.
She barely heard the voices from the party anymore, the laughter and music a distant, muffled hum as if she were underwater. Her fingers dug into her knees, nails biting into her skin as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the panic that was consuming her from the inside out.
Josie's phone slipped from her trembling hand, landing in the grass with a soft thud. She was frozen, trapped inside her own body, her mind racing too fast to keep up with, her thoughts blurring into a chaotic tangle. The world spun, and it felt like the ground was about to fall away from beneath her.
A sharp pang shot through her chest, making her gasp, the pain startling her. She felt like she was being crushed, like something heavy was sitting on her chest, pressing down and stealing the air from her lungs. Her hands clawed at her throat, desperate for relief, but it only made her panic more. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps. They were quick and purposeful, growing louder as they approached her hiding spot. She barely had the energy to open her eyes, but when she did, her vision was blurry—everything was moving too fast, her heart pounding in her ears.
"Hey, kid!" Mike's voice sliced through the fog, sharp and filled with urgency. He knelt down in front of her, his face inches away, but she could hardly register him. He grabbed her shoulders, his hands firm but careful, trying to ground her, but she was spiraling too fast to catch his touch.
"Hey, hey, look at me," Mike said, his voice strained with worry. He was close now, his face swimming in and out of focus. His eyes locked onto hers, but Josie could barely meet his gaze. Her pupils were wide, blown out, and the dim light reflected off them like black mirrors. Her breathing was so rapid and shallow that she thought she might pass out. She felt herself slipping, her consciousness flickering like a light on the verge of going out.
"Josie!" Mike's voice snapped her back for a second, but she couldn't answer. She couldn't speak. Her throat felt closed, as though the panic had stolen her voice along with her breath.
Mike's hands moved from her shoulders to her face, cupping her cheeks gently but firmly. His fingers were cool against her hot skin. His eyes—usually calm and understanding—were filled with something she didn't want to see: disappointment, frustration, but also deep concern. He was trying to reach her, but she was slipping away, drowning in the panic she couldn't control.
"Josie, come on, breathe," he said, his voice low but forceful, trying to pull her back from the edge. "You need to slow down, okay? Look at me. Look at me."
She tried. She wanted to. But everything was too much. Her body wouldn't listen, her mind was racing, and she couldn't make it stop. Tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring her vision further. She was choking on her own fear, and Mike's hands were the only thing tethering her to reality.
Mike moved closer, his grip on her face firm but gentle. "Focus on me," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "Josie, you're okay. I've got you."
His words barely broke through the chaos in her mind. Her chest tightened painfully again, and she gasped for air, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Mike's eyes flickered with something dark—he was scared. But she could also see it, that twinge of disappointment, like he was watching her unravel and didn't know how to pull her back together.
He glanced around, then made a quick decision. "Alright, come on," he muttered, his voice still steady. "We're getting you out of here."
With a quick but careful motion, he scooped her up under her arms and helped her to her feet. Josie stumbled, her legs weak, her body almost limp as she leaned against him for support. Her heart was still racing, and her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps, but she felt Mike's arm around her waist, guiding her through the backyard, away from the party, away from the noise that seemed to suffocate her.
They reached his car, and Mike quickly opened the passenger door. "Sit down," he ordered softly, his hands still gripping her shoulders to steady her. She could barely stand on her own. She collapsed into the seat, her body trembling, her mind still racing with thoughts she couldn't untangle.
Mike crouched down in front of her, his face level with hers as she sat hunched in the seat. He grabbed her face again, gently forcing her to look at him. "Breathe, Josie," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow it down, alright?"
Josie tried to follow his instructions, but her breath hitched, her lungs refusing to cooperate. The panic still clawed at her, making her feel like she was trapped in her own body, suffocating. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on Mike's voice, on the feeling of his hands on her face.
"You're okay. You're safe," Mike whispered, his thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks. "Just stay with me."
It took what felt like forever, but eventually, Josie's breathing began to slow, the tightness in her chest easing ever so slightly. She felt drained, exhausted, her body still shaking as the panic ebbed but didn't fully disappear. Mike watched her, his gaze softening slightly, though the worry still lingered.
"Why didn't you call sooner?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with frustration, but it was a gentle frustration. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Josie couldn't answer. She just shook her head, guilt and shame flooding her. She couldn't meet his eyes. She knew she had messed up, and the weight of it crushed her even more.
Mike exhaled sharply, standing up and running a hand through his hair. He was trying to keep it together, to not let his own emotions spill over. "Let's get you home," he said quietly, his voice softer now, but the disappointment still lingered. He walked around to the driver's side and got in, glancing at her once more before turning on the car.
As they pulled away from Jesse's house, the party fading into the distance, Josie sank deeper into the seat, her body exhausted, her mind still reeling. She knew she couldn't keep doing this—she couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. But in this moment, she was just grateful for Mike, for his steady presence, even though she knew she didn't deserve it.
The car sped through the dark, empty streets, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the stillness of the night. Josie was slumped in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window. The cool glass felt like the only thing anchoring her to the present, the rest of her body sinking into a fog. She was barely aware of the world outside, the lights of passing cars blurring in her peripheral vision. The panic attack had drained her, leaving her teetering on the edge of consciousness. Her chest still felt tight, her breaths shallow, but the adrenaline was fading, leaving only exhaustion in its place.
Mike's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his face tight with concern as he glanced over at her every few seconds. The air in the car was heavy, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Josie's breaths came in quiet, ragged gasps, her body limp against the seatbelt. She was slipping in and out of awareness, her mind floating just beyond the surface of everything, too tired to stay present but too restless to fully shut down.
She barely registered the movement when Mike reached over to adjust her seatbelt, making sure it wasn't digging into her collarbone. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open for a moment before closing again. Her limbs felt disconnected from her body, like she was watching herself from a distance. Everything was too quiet, too slow, the edges of the world blurry and distant.
Then, a sudden wave of nausea hit her, sharp and overwhelming, cutting through the haze. It rose quickly, twisting her insides in a violent churn, and her eyes shot open, panic coursing through her all over again. She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a broken whisper.
"Mike… stop," she managed, her voice barely audible, but desperate. "Stop the car…"
Mike frowned, glancing over at her, confusion flickering across his face. "Kid? What's—"
"Stop!" she choked, her hand clutching at her stomach as the nausea surged, her vision spinning. Her voice was stronger this time, frantic and pleading. "Mike, please—just stop the car!"
Without another word, Mike swerved to the side of the road, pulling up abruptly on the shoulder. The tires crunched against gravel as he slammed the car into park. Josie barely waited for the car to stop moving before fumbling with the seatbelt, her trembling hands struggling with the latch. Mike reached over to help, but she pushed him away, panicking as she fought to escape the car. The door swung open, and she stumbled out into the cold night air, her legs unsteady beneath her.
She barely made it a few steps before collapsing to her knees on the side of the road, the nausea overtaking her. Her stomach convulsed violently, and she retched, bile burning her throat as it spilled onto the grass. She gagged again, her whole body shaking uncontrollably as she vomited, tears streaming down her face. The nausea was relentless, wave after wave crashing over her as she sobbed between gasps for air, her hands digging into the dirt beneath her.
The world felt like it was closing in on her, the overwhelming mix of guilt, fear, and exhaustion suffocating her. Her chest heaved as she cried, snot running from her nose, mixing with the tears on her cheeks. The night was silent except for the sound of her sobs and the rasping breaths that tore from her throat. She couldn't control it anymore—everything she had been holding in for so long was spilling out all at once, and she was powerless to stop it.
Mike was out of the car in an instant, rushing to her side. He stopped just behind her, his hand hovering over her back as if unsure whether to touch her or give her space. His face was a mixture of concern and helplessness, but he didn't say anything. He just waited, watching as Josie fell apart in front of him.
Josie's body shook with sobs, her hands gripping the earth as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. "I'm so sorry…" she gasped between cries, her voice broken and desperate. "I'm so—so sorry."
She didn't even know who she was apologizing to anymore. To Mike? To herself? To the world for not being able to hold it together? It didn't matter. The words poured out of her in broken fragments, her whole body wracked with guilt and pain.
Mike crouched down beside her, his voice low and steady, though his face was tight with emotion. "It's okay, kid. You're okay." He reached out, gently placing his hand on her back. "Just breathe."
Josie shook her head, her sobs intensifying as she curled into herself, her forehead resting on her knees. "I can't," she cried, her voice muffled. "I can't—everything's a mess. I messed everything up."
Mike's hand moved to rub slow, soothing circles on her back, his touch light but grounding. "You didn't mess up anything," he said softly, though his voice was tight, like he was holding something back. "You're just going through it right now, okay? We'll figure it out."
His calmness grated against her. It felt impossible, like he couldn't understand the storm raging inside her, the depth of her self-loathing and fear. She shook her head again, her tears blinding her. She felt raw, exposed, like every ugly part of herself was on full display.
"I can't do this anymore," she sobbed, her body trembling violently as she spoke. "I'm— I don't know how to fix it, Mike."
Mike's jaw clenched, but he didn't let go. He knelt beside her, staying close but not forcing her to speak, just waiting for her to catch her breath, to come down from the violent storm that had overtaken her.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours—her sobbing, shaking, breaking down while he stayed beside her, patient and steady. When her cries finally began to subside, her body exhausted and spent, Mike gently pulled her back from the grass, guiding her to sit upright.
Her face was flushed, her eyes red and swollen, and she sniffled, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. She felt completely empty, hollowed out by the emotional storm that had ravaged her. But the nausea had passed, and her breath came easier now, even if her chest still ached.
Mike reached into the car, grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. He handed it to her wordlessly, his expression softening just a fraction.
Josie took it, wiping her face, her hands still shaking. She felt fragile, like she might shatter all over again at the slightest push. But when she glanced up at Mike, expecting judgment or anger, she was surprised to find only concern and a weariness in his eyes.
"You don't have to do this alone," Mike said quietly, his voice steady but strained. "But you've got to let me help you, Josie."
Josie stared at him for a long moment, her heart heavy with the weight of everything she had tried to carry by herself. She nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears, and whispered, "Okay."
It was all she could manage, but in that moment, it was enough.