heavy-hearted | fillie

six

theres dry blood on your wrist
your dry blood, on my fingertips
—————

Millie came home from school that day with achy bones and even more of an achy head. It felt clouded, like she just wanted to surgically remove her brain just to wash whatever's up there that evidentially refrains her from happiness with a sponge. It was like she mastered the art of perfect imperfection. Physically, she was gods gift but intellectually was internally unexplainable.

She needed to get into the door before she has a breakdown, mentally hesitating but her physical body ripped the front door open, eager and itching to return to the safety and privacy of her bedroom. She walked in, the first thing she saw was Kelly sat on the kitchen island. Her mother drank the cheap, vinegary wine that was in her small hands like it was goddamn oxygen. Millie shot a small smile her way, surprised to get a lazy one back in return. She suddenly thought she felt an ounce of happiness creep it's way into her system but was immediately retracted by the sight of her mother drinking out of the 4 dollar wine bottle.

She didn't bother trying to draft a conversation, instead she swiftly moved upstairs where she spends most of her time isolated in her own room.

Her bag shrugged off of her shoulders and hit her carpeted floor with a slight thud before she threw herself on the edge of her bed. She was fidgety, irritable and her nails clawed it's way in Millie's thigh. Her peripheral vision darkened and her sight became blurred, suddenly feeling her right arm weaken and go numb with every second that passes.

Her hand then clutches her chest, finding the air getting thicker and thicker; she found it hard to breathe.

She gasped loudly, standing up as she wobbled back, heels stopping her from hitting the floor with such force. She knew what was happening, this was a regular occurrence that she found out the hard way how to cope with this situation on her own.

She made an attempt to steady her breathing, waiting for the overwhelming feeling of distraught anxiety wave over but it seemed like it was going on forever, that every second was a minute as she itches and pulled on her hair, a coping mechanism that worked slight for her over the years of suffering. A tear fell down her cheek, unable to contain herself much longer as the room she was currently in span the fastest it's ever spun.

It reminded her of the feeling when she was about to die, about to lost consciousness as her back faced the bathtub and even though she's felt this feeling many times it still killed every ounce of her being with an emotional slap. It was funny, really, she tried to get rid of Sadie so much over the last two days but now, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she probably would feel better if the red head was within her company, to help her calm down and are back into reality in some way.

She was almost attempted to run over to the house and beg for help but her ego made her feet stick to her floor like cement.

She was having a panic attack.

———

"Finn!" Winona beamed, surprised to see the raven haired boy standing within her door way. His eyes were narrow as she stared at the middle aged woman. The glint of anger in his eyes were apparent but his unthreatening posture didn't have Winona questioning it, yet.

"You told my mom I bailed, that was a pretty shitty thing to do." Finn stated, walking farther into the room, inviting himself in as she took a seat in the familiar leather arm chair.