High School Gerussia Story PART THREE

Chapter 1

Austria POV:

"People, PEOPLE!" the orchestra conductor says loudly. The chatter continues. He slams down something and everyone's heads snap up. "Eighth-Grade, if you want to talk so badly I will let you-" chatter breaks free of its temporary chains. He slams the thing again. Silence. "I will let you talk if, IF, you play a piece I tell you to play, like a test, ALONE."he says. He really emphasized the alone part of it.  Alone? My social anxiety starts to kick in. He shouts a country's name but I can't hear it. Alone? I can't do this alone!?! I think frantically. I really wished people had shut up earlier. I don't know how many minutes hazily blur by but I know someone's saying something."Австрия, ты в порядке?" Kasachstan asks.Nein, nein,nein,nein,nein,nein,nein,nein,nein. "Австрия?" Kasachstan asks. "Kazakhstan! Play-" the rest of his words blur out. I start hyperventilating. Nein,nein, nein, bitte, bitte, bitte,hilfe mich, hilfe mich, hilfe mich bitte... Soon I'm the last person left. To play a sorrowful ballad. Alone. In a place where the noises are warped, and the vision is ever changing. And the motion in your stomach hurls you around. This is the world of a panic attack.Very often I will visit it. "Austria, play Roundtable Rival, all the way through." the orchestra conductor finally says. What? I think feebly. It's like he's dooming me to an execution. "Austria?" he says. I hear some snickers and rude comments. Tears start to prick into my eyes. Balancing daintily on my eyelashes. Hallucinogenic black ink seeps into my eyes. A flash back occurs. It's Kasachstan saying"Австрия, your  eyelashes are so long and...." A sharp noise makes the flashback burst into fiery ashes. Kasachstan is cut short. The real world swarms in, swirling its teasing tones around. "Stop, stop, just stop, please...." I mumble feebly. I tuck my legs in and cover my ears. Just make the sounds stop! I scream in my head. I know this isn't the real world. It is just another fragment of the panic attack that has unfurled. It feels like I'm floating. With lead lungs. That refuses to intake air. A voice gently anchors me from the swirling of the attack, their sweet, nectar tones soft, gentle, and kind. I look up.Is it an angel?  I think. To save me?  I pry my eyes open. It is indeed. Kasachstan. My savior. "Австрия, you don't play if you don't want to, or I can play with you, another song?" he says, his accent makes it feel intimate and original. "No, I just want to leave, j-just make  everyone stop staring." I stutter in a hoarse voice. I hate that everyone is staring. I can feel the tears start to slide down my face. My skin tingles with the horrible glares boring into my soul. Staring me down until I play that dreadfully sorrowful ballad, or until I lacerate and rupture into the worst state of the panic attack."There's only a few minutes left, I can get the conductor to end it early?" Kasachstan says. "O-okay, I don't know." I say. A few people giggle and repeat the repulsive comments. Their giggles echo together. "Make it stop, make it stop." I say in a small voice. The final stage of panic attack advances and commandeers over me. The world is just panicking. Anxiety. Choking for air. Black darkness with disturbing floaters. Whispers that mumur ineligible things. "Kasachstan, just make it stop, PLEASE!" I scream at Kasachstan. "Please, just please help.". He goes up to the conductor and the conductor announces loudly that the class is dismissed. When I'm finally out in the hallway with Kasachstan, several countries walk up to me and say "Thanks for ending the class early, crybaby.". I ignore them. Kasachstan is walking by my side. I finally work up the courage to say "Danke, Kasachstan, f-for being my angel.". I impulsively look down in embarrassment. "Oh Австрия, I will do absolutely anything for you." he says with genuine sweetness. ~~~