Y/N POV
I feel like the others are hiding something. Its like someone is always texting someone else. Maybe I'm just going insane... I mean, I wouldn't doubt it.
I can feel myself going insane. I feel like others can tell. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Yeah, I'm just paranoid. Paranoia POG. What am I doing?
I slump down the wall in the bathroom. My emotions hit me like a wave. A wave that I'm caught in. A wave that keeps pushing me down.
I feel the weight of everything on my shoulders. I don't understand why this is happening now.
I feel so stupid. I'm traumatized, and for what? I can't do this. I'm paranoid, scared, sad, anxious...
I wish someone would pit me out kf my misery, and quick. Like a gunshot to the head.
If they could just make it look like an accident, I would be good.
I pull at my hair. I wish I could get these thoughts out of my head.
Honey, get up. It's okay. Be strong. You'll see us soon.
Great. I'm actually going fucking mental. I can hear my dead mother's voice now.
I stop pulling my hair and start hitting my thigh. I bring my fist down repeatedly and forcefully. I need a bruise to be prominent. I need to see a result. I need to see a result to feel accomplished.
Soon enough, a spot on my thigh is an ugly mix of blue and purple. I sigh. Finally, some release.
I splash some cold water on my face. When I open my eyes, I see my mother's reflection in the mirror. Jumping back, I rub my eyes. And just like that, her smiling form is gone.
No, no, no. I'm seeing things. That wasn't real. I exit the bathroom quickly.
She's dead. I didn't see her. I didn't. I dont even realize I'm shaking until Phil says something.
"Are you okay, Y/N?" He asks. Luckily, him and I are the only ones in the hallway. The question throws me farther into my thoughts. Was I okay? I don't feel okay right now. But overall, I'm okay. Right?
I nod my head yes, but my shaking tells a different story. He pulls me into his room, and tries to talk to me. But I can't understand a word that he says.
My chest hurts and I feel like I can't breathe. Tears fall rapidly out of my eyes, and I pull at my hair.
The presence that was once next to me is gone... which means Phil left. I dont blame him. I would leave myself if I could right now.
My mom... was there? But then she wasn't. I can't comprehend what I just saw. It doesn't make sense. She's dead. Does this have to do with her voice in my head? Do I need professional help?
Someone touches my shoulder, causing me to flinch hard. Memories of Alejandro's hands on me flood my head. I feel extremely dirty, and I just want out of my skin.
My hands go from pulling my hair to scratching my neck. His hands were there, choking me when I was taken. I can feel them there still. They're still trying to choke me to death.
I just want to scream, but I can't. I can't get any air into my lungs. Wheezing and gasps are all that can be heard, including my pounding heartbeat.
Sounds reach me through the panic.
Calm down. You're okay.
It was my mom's voice. It made me even sadder and even more confused. Why is she in my head?
"Hey, hey..." A voice pokes through my slightly cleared mind. I guess my mom's voice had a calming effect or something. Weird.
"Breathe, Y/N." I couldn't identify who was the one talking.
I tried to listen to the voice, but I was on the verge of passing out. I could hardly get any oxygen into my system.
"No, you're okay. Inhale. 1, 2, 3. Hold. 1, 2. Exhale. 1, 2, 3.
I try to do as he says. Slowly, I can feel my breathing go back to normal.
I still feel disgusted with myself. I continue to scratch my neck as my breathing comes back to normal.
Someone gently grabs my hands and pull them away from my neck. I flinch at the contact.
"It's okay. Just stop hurting yourself."
"Will?" I recognize his voice. Tears are still blurring my vision. So, I can't see him.
"I'm right here. I'm not leaving." His words reassure me.
I calm down. My hands are still being restrained by him, but not as tightly as before.
"Sh-e's... in my.. head."
"Who? Y/N, who is in your head?" Will asks me, concerned.
"My mom."
"Can I hug you?" He asks for permission.
I nod my head because talking just causes my voice to break.
He slowly wraps his arms around me. Once I sont flinch, he pulls me closer. I can hear his heart beat and breathing.
"It's going to be okay. It's not real."
"It's not real," I repeat.
Her voice is pushed out of my head. It is not real. She is not real. The voice is not real.
Once I finally feel okay, I open my eyes and can see clearly. The tears stopped a little bit ago, causing my vision to clear.
I see that I'm still being held by Wilbur... and Phil is in the corner of the room.
Oh, great. I had a major panic attack in front of Phil. I feel terrible now.
"Sorry," I say to both Phil and Will.
"You don't have to apologize." Phil finally talks.
"I know, but I feel like I have to. I shouldn't have... I don't even know." I look down in shame.
Will lefts my chin up. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. And I'm glad to help anytime, okay?"
"Okay." I stand up. "I'm going to get some sleep."
"Alright. Let me know if you need anything." Wilbur says.
"I will."
"Have a good nap." Phil replies.
"Thanks, Phil."
I walk to my room to see Tubbo there.
"Hi, Toby. What's wrong?" He looks rather sad.
"I heard you having your panic attack. I just want to make sure that you're okay."
"Oh..." My mask slips for a second. I quickly put it back up. "Yeah! I'm all good. Don't worry about me."
He smiles. "Okay! Sleep well, Y/N!"
"Thank you."
He leaves and I lay down under the covers. I put in some earbuds. "numb" by Tom Odell comes on.
I've stayed away from drugs for a long time. I wonder if they would help with my pain?
...but everyone is counting on me to get better. I was getting better. And how would I even get them?
On the other hand, I could use them to escape reality.
Oh, the choices.
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A/N: Guys. Our book is #1 in depression! That's so poggers.
Anyways, I'm proud of everyone. You all are doing great.