The Panic Room

[Based off Panic Room by AuRa]

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I hear them now.

Their voices growing louder and louder by the second, drilling into my head, telling me I'm not good enough.

They're staring at me now, eyes flitting back and forth between each other, and I know, I know even if they don't say it, that they think I'm a failure,that I shouldn't be here.

The whispers intensify by the second, each one ringing in my head like a lethal gunshot, and I feel myself freezing up, legs frozen to the stage, hand clenching and unclenching, the telltale signs of a full-blown oncoming panic attack.

My breath comes in short gasps, and I struggle to inhale as I force the air down my lungs - "deep breaths, deep breaths, calm down, calm down", but it doesn't work.

And all I hear are their words, dripping with contempt and disgust, crowding inside my head, carving ugly scars onto my skin, the marks will never disappear.

Then my vision starts to cloud, and the room starts spinning, the voices are deafening now. And their eyes. I see their eyes, staring at me like I'm a outcast, like I don't belong here.

I know I don't.

But I still wanted to prove them wrong, even if it was only once.

Looks like I can't.

The musty smell of the hall, the roaring surge of their voices, the glare of their eyes - it's too much. Too much for me.

I feel myself losing control already, and like a driver trying to keep his car from skidding off the road, I try to reach for the steering wheel, grasping helplessly at it, spinning it round and round uselessly. All in hopes of gaining back control.

It doesn't work.

And like the car, I hurtle out of control, crashing into the sidewalk, going down in flames and scattered metal chunks.

I can't feel my surroundings anymore, I don't know what's happening, and the world spins round in circles in front of me, giving me a splitting headache.

I'm crashing to the ground, and I feel  my fingers clawing, pulling at my hair, but I can't control them, I can't make them stop.

Then someone's grabbing me, lifting me up, dragging me to the back of the stage and I look at his face and his lips are moving but I can't hear what he's saying - oh god what is he saying I can't hear him I can't hear I can't hear anything except the roar of their voices telling me I failed again someone save me someone help me someone wake me up from this hell I -

"Jamie!"

And like a shock of cold water splashed onto my face, my head starts to clear, and my vision returns. My hands still tremble, and my breaths still come in ragged gasps, but the control is coming back.

I've ruined myself again.

What have I done?

I know what the whole school's thinking now, they know I'm messed up, they know I'm unstable - they know I'm a disappointment.

And then I cry, burying my face into my hands, letting the sobs tear through my body, letting the tears fall and stain my cheeks.

I had always been trapped, trapped in my own prison, trapped in this cold, cold room, with no one to save me.

And sometimes when I tried to escape, they came from the darkness, from the lonely corners of the room, my own fears, caging me in.

Gasping, struggling, clawing desperately at the locked door, anxiety would set in, and I'd lose control once again.

Welcome, to the panic room.