My body shakes violently as I continue vomiting. When I felt like there was nothing left inside to choke out, I pull a few tissues from the tissue box and wipe my mouth that was now tasting like vomit. Taking my time so as not to lose conscious like I did a few months ago, I slowly push myself upwards and start moving towards the sink. After opening the tap water, I push my hands together so that they are right next to each other, fill them with water and with my unstable hand movements, I force the water into my mouth then throw them out again several times as my attempt at removing the stinking smell from my tongue.
When I feel like the insides of my mouth taste better, I turn off the tap. With my hands now resting on the ceramic of the sink as the only support provider for the rest of my body, I push my head up, and oh God was that a dreadful mistake. The girl that stares at me back in the mirror is one I don’t recognise.
Instead of my usual snowy skin tone, my complexion is a several shades paler. Covering my cheeks is a trail of cool moist droplets of tears, and it surprised me how I didn’t realise I am crying until I stared back at my own reflection. There are dark circles right below my dark chocolate brown eyes; my full plum lips are moist- probably from the water just running over them; my smooth blond waves are now sticking into each other in a tangled mess as they are drenched in sweat, and my cheekbones look suddenly visible that it actually worried me.
Have I lost weight?
Have I not been taking care of myself, or is it just the effects of my astraphobia?
Another deafening boom breaks through the quiet atmosphere, deteriorating my health even more. Unlike all the other familiar symptoms I’m used to suffering with the presence of thunder, this symptom is one I’ve never had before- chest pain. My hands release the ceramic and my body lets go as a reflex, tumbling down to the floor. I rest my back on the nearest wall and pull my knees to my aching chest with my hands clutched tightly around them.
As my head lays heavily on top of my knees and my chest heaves painfully with all my uncontrollable sobbing, it suddenly disturbs me that I’m not at home, even though that’s the last place I want to be at. It disturbs me knowing how my mom is the only one who knows how to calm me down; how to snap me out of my panic attack.
The idea of calling Lexi strikes my mind, but, as soon as it hits me, I shake it off instantly. I can’t ask Lexi to come here. I can’t ask her to leave her house at 11 pm and drive her car in the darkness, the heavy rain- that I can hear so loudly from inside- and the threatening thunder. The streets are probably drowning, and the seemingly tiny droplets would’ve joined forces to create a high water level that can fit into creating a new beach.
Oh God, what do I do?
I have no one.
Will I be able to not lose it until the booming ends?
What would my mom have done?
Whenever there’s a thunderstorm, Trevor would come up to my room running and pick me up in bridal style manner so that he can take me downstairs. He’d place me on the couch then my dad would show up with heavy blankets as an attempt to try and stop my involuntary shaking that they’d always confuse for shivering. My mom was the one who’d always be my real source of comfort though. She’d hurry up and lie next to me on the couch, pull my head on her lap and run her hands through my hair softly. When the booming came, she’d always tell me ‘eyes on the TV darling.’
Yeah, they’d force me to watch a comedy movie.
Then it hits me: what I can do to try and make it through the night alive and well.
‘Nothing beats hot chocolate,’ my mom would say whenever things turned out pretty bad, and she was right. She was always right. If there’s one thing that always managed to calm down my panicking state a bit, it was always hot chocolate, and I hope it’ll always be.
Pulling my head from my knees and resting it against the wall, my eyes roll from the ceiling to the bathroom door as I now know what I should try doing. I now know what my new struggle is. With what little strength I have inside of me, I push myself upwards and force calculated heavy steps towards the door. My body is shaking pretty badly, and I only pray that I can make it downstairs before losing conscious, tumbling down the stairs and breaking my neck.
It’s terrifying how we- human beings- always think we’re in control because truth to be told, we’re not. Never have been and never will be. We do not have control over ourselves, we do not have control of our bodies, we do
