"you will never be too much for someone who can't get enough of you."

⋆✧⋆✧⋆

I go in and out of sleep wrestling with my own thoughts. Finally, my anxiety wins and I wake up, yet, I still feel completely out of it. I feel my heart already beating out of my chest and my head dizzy from panic.

Shit, please not here. Not right now.

I look to my left and see Sterling sound asleep or as much of him as I can considering my view is blurry from my fear and tears forming.

Why does this have to happen to me?

I get out of bed, feeling the need to move and try to gain control. I stay quiet, not wanting to wake up Sterling or the other boys in the house.

I grab my phone from the nightstand and call Jemma.

She doesn't answer.

I try my mom next, but she doesn't answer either.

I think about calling the other girls or even Chase, after all, every one of them has been through this with me, but my body doesn't let me reach out.

You're weak, I think to myself.

Don't be a burden.

Just because you're awake doesn't mean you get the right to wake others up and bother them.

My thoughts beat me down.

So I chose to deal with this by myself.

A knot forms at the pit of my stomach and I get that all too familiar feeling of sickness brought on by this attack.

I think I know deep down I can't handle this on my own. My whole life dealing with this shit and I'm very rarely able to calm myself down. Yet still, my brain makes me feel like I have no choice. As if even on this one day I still can't put myself first. Like I'm not a good enough friend, sister, or daughter to balance out putting them through all my mess.

The other part of me knows that my friends and family love me and would drop whatever they're doing in a heartbeat to help me. I've seen it.

Chase has come home from parties early or left practice to come calm me down. Jemma has lost hundreds of hours worth of sleep over it. Aspen has sat in the hallways of school trying her best to distract me. Harper has driven hours to come find me and sit through it. Beth has stayed on FaceTime with me for multiple days in a row.

But they've been through enough. They can't keep suffering because of me.

And I know it's not my fault. This isn't my doing, because if it was, trust me, I'd have fixed it by now. However, I can't control it, this is how my brain works. I've been to therapists, taken medicine, and tried everything to stop feeling this way. But this is it, my reality.

And out of all the problems in the world, others have it so much worse.

I manage to walk down the stairs in the pitch black, holding onto the railing for dear life.

I move to the kitchen and look for a cup. I need water.

I frantically open all the cabinets and find what I'm looking for. I can barely even pour water into the glass my hands are so shaky.

I take a sip and focus on my breathing, remembering everything my therapists have said, trying to do what Jemma would tell me if she were here.

But it doesn't work.

I'm too far gone.

I start losing control. At this point my hands have a mind of their own, trembling like crazy as if they're trying to get the anxiety out of my body.

I start to cry, harder than I already was, putting a hand over my mouth in attempt to muffle my gasps.

My head hurts, my stomach aches, and I'm freezing yet boiling hot at the same time. All I can really hear is a ringing in my ears and I can only make out basic shapes in front of me from the blurriness.

I barely even feel alive. Ironic considering panic attacks like these make me question why I even am, if life is worth feeling this way so often.

I can't breathe, I can't talk, I can't move.

I feel helpless.

I feel out of control.

I fucking hate this.

I hyperventilate harder than ever before trying to figure out what to do, how to stop this.

"Laney?" is all I hear, ripping me out of my spiral.

I look over and see Sterling coming down the stairs.

I watch as he rubs his eyes, probably trying to figure out what the hell is going on right now.

He turns a small lamp on that barely gives off any light, leaving me grateful he can still barely see what a disaster I am right now.

I look up at him, his eyes immediately widen at seeing my state, and his brows furrow.

"Laney? What's the matter?"

I want to tell him so much.

To go away. To stay.

To leave me. To hold me.

I need to tell him what's going on. That I'm panicking. That this is normal, for me at least. That he needs to go find someone that knows how to help me through this.

But I can't.

I can't talk.

Instead, my body gives out on me and my knees go weak.

He rushes over to catch me from falling and he picks me up. He places me on the counter so, for the first time, we're at eye level with each other. I feel an immediate sense of calm looking into his familiar green eyes.

Unfortunately, not calm enough, not nearly calm enough.

"Laney, breathe. Breathe with me."

I just nod, trying to take a breath. Yet something so simple is impossible for me right now.

I look into Laney's eyes, as deep as I can, trying to find any sign of what's going on.

Her once tired eyes that looked at peace as she read to me now held a look of terror, pure panic.

I read her face, her body language, something I've become so beautifully familiar with. But this, I've never seen her like this.

A panic attack.

My mom used to have these. I've watched this exact thing happen to my mom and I've memorized how my dad used to pull her out of it.

"5 things, Laney. Name 5 things you can see."

She opens her mouth, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. Nothing but a small cry that shatters my fucking heart into a million pieces.

"I know, love, I know. But you can do this."

"5 things for me," I cup her face in my hands, "please, baby."

Wait. What did I just call her?

"I see you," she chokes out, "your eyes, nose, lips, hands, and hair."

Focus on her, Sterling.

"4 things you can touch."

Laney rests her shaky hands on the counter, "the counter," she moves her hands again, "you, your shirt, this cup."

Every time she speaks, hiccuping between each word, I feel a deep pang in my chest. All I can think to do is wipe the flowing tears from her flushed cheeks.

"3 things you can hear."

Her words are slightly clearer now, "Your voice, my voice," the both of us go quiet, "and one of the guys storing."

I think I see a hint of amusement on her face.

"2 things you can smell."

"You; mint and fresh laundry."

"Almost done, Laney, 1 thing you can taste."

"Water, I guess," she shrugs her shoulders.

I study her once more, this time, less painful than a few minutes ago. She looks calmer, grounded, more herself.

But she's still not okay. I don't miss her body still quivering and her eyes drowning in tears.

Fuck, seeing her like this is killing me. How do I take her pain away?

I feel so fucking helpless, so I hug her, the only thing I can think to do. My arms engulf her and she buries her body into my own. I rub slow, comforting circles on her lower back with one hand and secure her within my grasp with my other.

I don't know how long we stay like that, but I just hold her, letting her cry into me.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Don't do that, Laney, don't apologize for something you can't control," I assure her. "I'm here for you, always."

She nods her head and tightens her grip on me.

After a while, I feel her get tired again so I pick her up and bring her back to bed.

I find a hoodie of mine and wrap her in it, trying to stop her body from trembling.

I lay beside her just like I did earlier tonight. "How can I help you, Laney, what do you need from me?"

Her exhausted eyes stare back at me, contemplating what she's going to say, "Can you just hold me?"

Fuck. This girl is going to break my heart. "Of course, my love."

A grateful smile addresses her lips as I move closer to her, resting my head back so she can lay her own on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, trying to make her feel secure in any way I can, and she snuggles into me.

I look at the girl beside me and can't help but wonder how this all happened. How my sister's coach, my psych tutor, quickly became one of the most important people in my life.

I didn't mean to fall for her, but from the moment I met her and had to leave to avoid saying something stupid, I think a part of me knew.

Knew that she needed to be a part of my life in some way or another. And thank god for that.

I feel her drift off to sleep as her breathing steadies out and I decide on staying awake for the rest of the night, just to be there if she needs me. So I can help her through it immediately, because knowing her, she'd try and fight it on her own again. But now, I'm here, she has me, and I'm going to let her know that.

It's now my life's mission to show her that I will always be there for her, for the rest of my fucking life.

I brush the hair out of her face and I'm once again mesmerized by her beauty and strength, "God what are you doing to me, Delaney Lawrence?"

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I know this was a heavy chapter, so I hope everyone is alright. Writing this came so easy to me because, unfortunately, I know this feeling all too well. Please, if you are struggling with something similar and need help don't be scared to reach out to me or someone you trust.

I know how hard it can be to let someone in on feeling this way, but it'll make a world of a difference.

Mental health check in: How are you doing, truly?

Stay safe and healthy everyone <3