I have no idea how a panic attack works, but I imagine it to be like how I described. To me it makes sense that you would have a shortness of breath.. right? Just go with it, either way haha. Enjoy xx
*Not edited, yet*
Darien's POV
Vigorous pounding throughout my head was what woke me up in a panic. The pain was almost unbearable and for a moment I could not figure out why, and then it all came tumbling back and hit me tenfold. I got way beyond drunk last night, and the guilt I felt was heartbreaking. I had never had more than a few sips of alcohol before, so whiskey probably wasn't the best way to go.
I groaned and threw my hands up to grasp both sides of my head, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. I was experiencing what was probably the biggest and worst migraine of my life. The amount of regret flowing through my conscience was unbelievable and in that moment, I couldn't understand how anybody could become a heavy drinker. This was definitely not my cup of tea.
When I was in the mists of sulking in my self pity, the most obvious, and probably the most important, realization came to mind. Harry. He was already fed up with me before I pulled this stunt, and he had promised me that my punishment would keep getting worse each time I did something wrong. Sore behind was for sure enough for me, I did not need the extra step I was about to get. Surely, it wouldn't get much worse, would it? I mean, he wouldn't jump too many steps with this whole "lesson" thing, would he? What more could be possibly think of?
A shit load of scenarios started to pop into my head. All of those movies where the obsessive guy holds the girl hostage and does unspeakable things makes me question why I ever agreed to stay home alone the night I was kidnapped. Harry wouldn't do those things..would he? A shiver ran up my spine at the thought and it immediately sparked a bit of fear. I can't believe I was even considering that he would do that, though I had no real reason to believe otherwise. I had no idea what I would do with myself if it came to that.
I strained sob escaped past my lips, the panicking going to another level. I had never felt this feeling before, my chest was rising and falling fast but at the same time it felt compressed, like it was barely moving at all. I couldn't breathe, the air was struggle it to get to my lungs, the oxygen barely passing through my mouth. My head was still pounding and I was dizzy beyond belief. So dizzy. My chest started to hurt from the accessible heaving, and I found myself gasping for air as if I was hiccuping. My throat and my lungs started to burn, and my vision was turning blotchy. I leaned forward in my sitting position on the edge of the bed and grabbed hold of my stomach, trying to calm myself down, when I realized what was happening to me. I was having a panic attack and if I didn't find a way to stop it I would pass out from lack of oxygen. I could already feel myself getting close.
It took numerous tries and a lot of strength before I heaved myself up and rushed to the door. As I guessed, it was locked. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing, doing a breathing pattern as some kind of half-ass technique, as I banged my hand hard against the door multiple times. I could find the air to scream for Harry, so a strangled little yell that he probably wouldn't have heard escaped my mouth. It had been well over a minute since this started, and I knew I couldn't take it much longer. I wasn't exactly sure what happened if a panic attack wasn't stopped in time, other than you could pass out from no air, but I was freaking out.
Finally, after what felt like forever but was really only about twenty seconds, Harry opened the door in a hurry. I stumbled back from exhaustion, too tired to stay standing while I was trying so hard to breath, just as Harry's worried eyes met mine. A look of shock and confusion flashed across his face as he quickly reached his arms out, catching me before I fell. He held me to him tightly as his gaze wandered over my whole body, fast.
"What is happening?" He rushed, trying to figure out what was going on.
I struggled to speak, but I managed to get the words out in a mangled manor. " P-panic atta-ack."
"Oh my god, I don't- I don't know what to do," his eyes widened as he rushed me to the bed, lying me flat down on the mattress that still laid on the floor. "What do I do?" He raised his voice, his hands flying across my whole body, trying to calm me down.
"Push on my- my chest, m-maybe," I wheezed. I had no idea what to tell him, this had never happened before. But, it made sense that if I was having trouble breathing, CPR like motions would help me.
Harry put his hands under my breasts, near my ribs, and started putting pressure on the hollow feeling area. He pressed down numerous times, and eventually my lungs started to move evenly. I gasped in one last breath before I told him I was fine, and he lifted his hands.
"What was that?" He raises his eyebrows, concern still written across his features.
"I think it was a panic attack," I told him, siting up on the mattress
"You think? You mean that's never happened before?" He pressed, standing back up.
"No, that was the first time. It was scary," I shook my head to myself, sighing in relief.
"Why did it happen?" He questioned further. If it really was a panic attack, which I'm sure it was because I'm not sure of what else it could have been, then I did not want to tell him the cause of it. I count admit that I was so terrified of what he would do that I literally couldn't breathe.
"I have no idea, it just did," I shrugged, hoping he'd let it go.
We both went silent for a moment as I tried to avoid his gaze. I was fiddling with my thumbs and looking down at my lap, praying he wouldn't bring up what happened last night. I knew he would, however, because I knew that he wouldn't just overlook it.
"Darien, about last night," he started. My body tensed at those words. "I would like to begin discussing what happened and what we are going to do about it. I cannot just oversee it, unfortunately."
"Harry, I know that this isn't going to make much of a difference, but I want to say it anyway. I am truly sorry for what I did last night. I stepped out of line and it wasn't my place to take what was yours and completely wreck myself, without your permission none-the-less, and I apologize," I sighed, telling the absolute truth.
"I appreciate that, Darien, but it doesn't change anything," he shook his head, a frustrated look overtaking his features.
"I know that, but I figured I'd just say sorry and explain myself. I had never really drank much before last night, and I was experimenting I guess you could say. I was just really worried and depressed, and when I found that while I was looking for food, I took advantage of it. I feel nothing but guilt and regret, especially after feeling that headache this morning. Believe me," I rambled, remembering the pain in my head.
"It's good that you feel guilt and regret, it means you won't do it again. But, I still need to punish you. You overdid it last night and stepped completely out of your boundaries and I need to teach you what will happened when you do that. Discipline is what keeps everything in an appropriate manor," Harry explained. His voice was edging in anger, I could hear it. He was trying to hold it back, though, I could tell. I was being as polite to him as possible so I suppose he was trying his best to do the same for me.
"What are you going to do?" I asked, meekly. I was frightened and nervous to say the least.
"I have a feeling I know what you've been thinking lately. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've been thinking about violation and the typical shit, haven't you?" He looked at me with a serious expression, and I could see his jaw tensing. My silence was enough assurance for him. "I'm not into sexual assault, if that's what you think, Darien. You are not here to satisfy my needs and I'm the farthest thing from a rapist, so don't flatter yourself," he spat.
"I wasn't tr-"
"I know, you're scared is all, I get it. It's exactly what you would expect after being kidnapped," he rolled his eyes. "Just know that I am not doing this to benefit myself, if I was, then I would have started already. I am doing this for the same reasons I have explained to you before, for discipline."
"Okay," I whispered. I was relieved in a way, but also confused. Why was he keeping me here, then? I was positive I had asked myself that about a million times already, but I would never stop being curious and confused.
"Now, I've decided to make the punishment more serve than the last. Clearly it was not harsh enough to keep you from doing wrong," he shook his head to himself and made a 'tsk' sound.
"What is it?" I asked fore the second time.
"Stand up," he ordered. He hesitated before I slowly hoisted myself up. "Hurry the hell up!" He snapped and yanked me up by the arm. I hissed in pain, wiggling out of his right grip.
"Sorry," I muttered, lowly. Suddenly, a harsh ache took over my face as I fell back to the ground. The pound in my head quickly started again as I placed my hand on the side of my face, realizing Harry just punched me.
"That was for disobeying me!" He spoke, loudly, anger and annoyance clear with each syllable he spoke. A shooting pain filled my head, and I was sure I could feel the bruise already forming. "And it was for thinking it was okay to get drunk while I was gone!" He yelled. He yanked me up by my arm, swinging me around to face him. I was reminded of the night he first attacked me in my house when I looked into his raging eyes. They were almost black.
Out of no where, I was pushed up against the wall and came face to face with Harry. Pain still rippled through my cheek and a low throb started. Harry held me up above the floor by my hips. "Also, for drinking my alcohol," he spoke lowly, harshly, and through his teeth. Tears were littering my cheeks and sobs were gargling past my throat. I was shocked that he had actually hit me, but I should have been expecting it from my captor.
"Harry," I chocked, clawing at his hands, trying to pry his fingers from around my hip. I didn't like being this close to him when he was angry.
He growled lowly in my face, squeezing my sides quickly but firmly. "And that," he spat before saying, "was for extra measure." Then he released me and I fell to the floor in a heap.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed, lying there helplessly.
"Think of this the next time you go against me," he warned before leaving the room.
He got so angry so fast, I didn't even understand. He was so calm and gentle when we first came into the room and we trying to help me, to save me, and then he lashed out all of a sudden and attacked me like the first night. I still had a scar on my arm from when he tried to carve the word death, but it was small and mostly faded by now because he didn't manage to get deep enough into the skin. This whole ordeal reminded me that Harry is, in fact, bipolar, and I should really stop letting that minor detail slip my mind. It's a dangerous factor when it's in the hands of a murderer and is almost always to my disadvantage. Harry's mood swings are not my best friend.
I stayed on the floor, lying in the same position I fell in when he dropped me. The only movement from me was the violent shaking of my body as the horrid, ear-aching sobs flowed out of me, and even that was hurting me. The pain was so intense that I could hardly feel my face. I couldn't imagine what I would feel like if he made it worse than that. A punch to the face that I was positive wasn't even his strongest was enough to keep me motionless for what felt like hours, so I really didn't want to visualize it as any worse.
I was sure that my face was swollen, I could feel it even before I physically felt it. I also could have sworn that my hops would have small, faint bruises from his finger tips. It was when a sudden jolt of pain shot through my cheek all of a sudden, without warning, that I decided to try and get up. I slowly moved my arms around to my front and put the lightest amount of pressure on them as possible as I eased myself up off the floor. I sat up right after a lot of effort and lifted my hand up to feel my face. My cheek pulsed as soon as I touched it and I winced, quickly retracting my hand. I lifted my shirt up to observe the damage on my side. I was greeted by a few light bruises in the shape of three of his fingers, just like I suspected. They had formed quickly in the amount of time I had been lying there.
I managed to waddle myself into the bathroom. It was hard to walk because every time I took a step, dizziness would set in. My face hurt like hell, but I had to push it aside and clean myself up. I was hoping that Harry wouldn't get mad at me for leaving my room, but I had to go to the bathroom and try to fix the damage he caused. After all, he wouldn't help me, he was a murderer, he didn't feel guilt and he most certainly didn't try to help the people he harmed.
I locked the bathroom door behind me and gasped when I looked at myself in the mirror. My cheek was bright red, turning purple, trailing to just under my eye in a dark purple. I never thought I would see myself in a state like this again, but after the first time Harry did it that night at my house, I should have been expecting it to happen sooner.
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I'm done school now! Summer has officially began for me. I wrote my last exam this morning, which means more updates, hopefully.
Hope you guys liked it! It was a little different from the rest of the chapters, I would say. Harry is going to be tougher from now on.. it's up to guys to guess why! I'll give you a hint and say that the reason is hidden, you probably won't predict it but if you do, props to you. That's all I can say! Anyway, the "punishments" will stay close to this one, but they will be more sever as time goes on. Please vote and comment! Thanks, lovelies xx