Dorm Room 210 [Rewrite]

Chapter 8

I clap my shaking hand over my mouth and catch a sob. People walk around me, concerned about their own affairs, and I don't blame them despite the dizziness blinding my vision. I try to think of my spatial awareness; the meats being served to buyers, the underline joy filtering the atmosphere, the warm cardboard box for my fries and the citrus from the dip, the laughter, the songs, the ground beneath my feet.

You're afraid.

Another sob. Someone in front of me turns my way.

You're afraid.

A little boy asks his dad why there's a lady crying.

You're afraid.

A figure on my right approaches me. I shut my watery eyes tight.

"Lillian." A familiar voice. "What's wrong?"

My breathing cuts short when I stutter out to Noah, "I need to get out of here."

"Yeah, that's fine. Where do you want—"

"Please." I blindly reach to hold onto him. "Anywhere. Just get me out. Get me out."

There is a tense beat in which he doesn't do anything, then his hands fall heavy on my shoulders, and he steers me with a firm push.

I focus on the ground beneath me, trusting Noah while he moves us further away, weaving through people and objects, only stopping if there are people in the way. The pressure from his touch is no phone but it brings a ripple of comfort that stops the shakes enveloping me whole. Carefully, I let my eyes fall on his face. There's stubble on his cheeks hiding little pimple scars, and his brown eyes are determined. A clean, earthy cologne scent surrounds him that's blocking out the festival's vibe. I dive into this new sense of calm.

Noah steers us to an open ally with graffiti — and fewer people. He takes me to another corner, smaller and shady, closing off any source of heat, with newspaper-covered windows and a foul odour coming from a drain. When he realises no one's around, he lets go. My back presses up against the cool brick wall. 

I hold my breath for four seconds, then release it for another four. I repeat a few more times. The silence is dense as Noah watches me, but after a moment I'm able to breathe again. The build-up drains, leaving me empty.

I face the dead-end as a shudder ripples through my body and a fresh swarm of tears push through the tightness of my eyelids. It's over. It's over.

"Do you need anything?" Noah asks, sounding unsure. "Water? Something else to eat?"

The cardboard box of my fries covered in dips has my mouth dry. "I'm fine."

"Uh, okay. I mean, you didn't look fine a few minutes ago." The sound of his voice appears closer. "You were having a panic attack."

I press a hand to my stomach to restrain the humiliation threatening to overtake my core, but after a while of standing in the silence, I feel nothing but a dull ache.

"What happened?" he presses.

I swallow back a lump in my throat. "I was with the girls and thought I saw Raven. I went after him. He disappeared. I couldn't find anyone."

"Couldn't you have phoned the girls?"

"They needed to borrow my phone to find out where you guys were. They couldn't use theirs." Another deep breath in. I hold it until my head goes dizzy. "I'm sorry."

Noah's hand rubs my shoulder. "For what?"

I'm sure there's something but nothing serious comes to mind. "Everything."