INKED LINES // H.S.

Chapter 1

"The sweetest smiles hold the darkest secrets."

- Sara Shepherd

****

Blood.

It's rich, warm and metallic as it passes through my nose, the stark scent almost making me gag.

I bring my hands before my face, their shakiness disrupting the stillness to the car around me. My breaths quicken rapidly as I inspect them, a bright shade of red covering every inch.

The crimson soaks into all the lines of my palms, even dipping underneath the beds of my nails.

I wonder if the lines on my palms predicted this to happen, waiting on my skin to be covered one day with blood.

My breathing becomes more rapid, panic rising in my chest.

Oh god.

Despite my determined efforts, thoughts of this morning drift back into my mind and with the little strength I have left I can't seem to push the rampant memory from flooding over me.

My lungs burn as if the memory was water being sucked into them, drowning me. I have to actively force myself to release my breath, it stuttering out in panicked puffs.

I feel tears prickle at my eyes and nausea bite the back of my throat as the anxiety takes over me in a familiar flood of relentless panic.

My head fills with the sounds of her screams and the way her eyes were turning dull and faded, lifeless.

I whimper and gasp for air. My heart thrashes against my ribs as if trying to pry itself out of my own body.

"Just breathe," I whisper to myself, my voice hoarse. "It isn't real."

I tell my mind to focus and attempt to control my breathing.

I've got this. I am in control.

I repeat the mantra to myself, like I always do. 

I've got this. I am in control.

I let my focus drift upwards, attempting to switch my attention to the landscape outside of my car's windscreen.

The orange of the setting sun before me appears more dull than usual, like the life was being sucked out of it. Not only that, but it is frozen on the horizon as if it is physically wedged between the mountains surrounding it, forcing it to never move on, to never escape.

There is a stillness to the air. My mind, like the landscape around me, is drained and unchanging.

"I've got this," I say shakily. My lips press together in determination.

My voice is stronger as I go on, "I am in control."

I repeat the mantra to myself until I feel the anxiety start to be pushed away, just like all the other times before.

I study my hands again. Clean and white. No blood.

I let out my breath, with it releasing the panic that was starting to form like cement in my veins.

Looking back to the sunset, I notice its gradual movement as it begins to descend through the mountains. As if I clicked play, the stillness goes and the world moves again.

With a few shaky breaths, I turn the keys and the car roars to life once again. The old purr of the engine rattles loudly in protest as I pull out onto the road and continue my journey, leaving the momentary episode of panic behind.