By Shreya Ragi
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***
Playing from 06:58:07:
“Just got off the bus. I’m going over to visit him in a few minutes,” I said to Fiona as I entered the school.
“Hopefully Cole’s there. I’ll see you at lunch, Shreya!” Fiona replied before hanging up the phone.
It was Friday morning, the last day of an exhausting school week. I had barely gotten four hours of sleep but I felt enough energy to go for a run —actually never mind, I don’t like running. I wiggled my toes to relieve some of the electricity building up as I climbed the stairs to third floor K-pod. By the time I took the last few steps to Mr. Beam’s room, I was out of breath. As I approached my friend, Cole, my mind went blank. He was standing a few feet in front of me, pouring a cup of coffee. His curly, dirty blonde hair was not covered by his usual pink beanie —did he get a haircut? I hadn’t seen him nor spoken to him in two weeks since he decided to
ghost me mid-conversation. Cole turned around and raised his eyebrows, holding them there for a split second, then dropping them back down, insinuating a hello as he gulped down his coffee. I felt his reaction calm my nerves as I let out the sigh of relief I was holding in. Cole didn’t seem mad at me, so why was he avoiding me?
“Since when do you drink coffee?” I asked him to break the silence.
“Oh, it’s decaf. I did have a Red Bull to power me through writing essays last night though!” Cole spoke fast. Was it the sleep deprivation or the Red Bull?
“Well I can see that neither one of us got much sleep, but I came to ask why you still haven’t replied to my text. Is everything alright?”
“Uhh.. yeah.. I’m sorry about that. I’ve just felt too exhausted to reply to anyone and I’m dealing with a lot right now at home so I needed some space from everyone—” His words were drowning out as I felt something wrong. My legs. They couldn’t support my weight anymore. I had to sit down before I collapsed. I walked over to the nearest desk while he occupied the one next to me. Just as he was about to ask me something, his friends came into the room. They were talking about plans for the football game tonight. He seemed preoccupied talking to them. I don’t blame him. I was sitting silently in my seat; absorbing everything in the room. All the conversation. The loud thumping soles of footsteps. The voices resonating from the classrooms down the hall. The zoop of Tony zipping his backpack. The tapping of acrylics as Jess was texting. The whirring of Mr. Beam’s coffee maker brewing some peanut butter espresso. The unpleasant shrill in Leah’s voice. God, I flinched a little. It reminded me of my mother’s when she got upset. She was so loud. I couldn’t hear anything else but her. Look over here. Please. Just turn your head. Check up on me. Ask me why I’ve been silent for the last three minutes. Just acknowledge my presence for a second. Please. I need help.
I sat there in the chair, feeling disoriented. By the next blink, I could see myself from the third person, sitting in the seat. She looks a bit off. I looked around the room for a while, wondering what all these characters in the room were doing. Who’s controlling this game? Why has my player left their game controller unattended? I had a moment of depersonalization. A few blinks later, I came back to and felt my eyes filling up with tears. My heart slowed down to a stop where I could no longer feel it beating. No more thump thump. Just utter silence. My breathing also seemed to have vanished. I think I forgot how to breathe. There was no air going in or out; at least, not that I could feel or hear. Oh god. It’s happening again. “Cole, I’m having a panic attack!!!”
Those were the words I wanted to say but couldn’t. My voice was gone, and a choking lump I couldn't swallow replaced the vocal cords in my throat.
Move your hand.
I could only move my fingers. They found their way to my rings —I wear them to focus on when things get overwhelming. I was twisting my rings frantically at this point. My eyes bounced from one object to another, desperate to find something familiar to rest on. The coffee maker, the clock —which read 7:07, the floor, the “Let’s eat grandma!” poster, the floor, the clock —which now read 7:10, and back to the floor. I focused on the faded slate blue and charcoal grey fibers of the carpet that were intertwined with dust until the tears dwindled back into my tear ducts. I looked back at the clock —the time was 7:18. I had to go. I couldn’t be late for Knight Time.
Get up! Get up! You have to go!
I couldn’t move.
GET UP! MOVE! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME AND MOVE!
I can’t! My body wasn’t responding, and I didn’t have the energy to bother trying. I was numb. I could visualize my hands moving. In reality, they just rested on my lap under the desk. Lifeless. My eyes were all I could move. I glanced at the clock again, 7:20. The bell! The bell! The bell!
Yea… I know it’s going to ring...
I took a deep breath —enough to the point I thought my lungs would explode— and pushed the floor with my feet. I stabilized myself with my hands on the desk as I got up. BEEEEEP! I shuddered to the piercing sound of the bell and almost fell back. Dang it, I’m going to be late.
I still had to muster up the energy to pick up my backpack. That thing weighed like two bricks. Probably three. I let out a groan as I attempted to lift my backpack. I almost tipped over. I dragged my legs as I slowly waddled my way to the door.
Why do I pack so much stuff? I only use like three noteboo—
“You ok?” Cole asked, interrupting my thoughts.
Dude, do I look ok? My walk is off, and the bell has already rung. You know that I always try to be in class on time. Am I ok? Pft, can you not read my body language? In fact, how are you not understanding when you were just talking about having an anxiety attack at work? If anyone understands what’s happening to me right now, It would be you.
“No.” I blatantly say because that’s all I could force to come out.
“Why? What’s wrong?” he said with the concern I was relying on 15 minutes ago. Cole’s stubbornness had finally subsided and turned into worry. He was finally starting to catch onto what was happening.
“I can’t walk,” I say, avoiding eye contact. I kept forcing myself to walk out of the room and to my knight time. I don’t know why I had a panic attack so what was I supposed to tell Cole? I didn’t feel like making the effort to speak so I texted Fiona instead on my way out.
***
Text to: Fiona
I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO ME
I CAN’T WALK
I JUST HAD ANOTHER PANIC ATTACK
But I don’t know why it happened
And I’m late to knight time.
Text to: Shreya
ARE YOU OK???
WHAT HAPPENED.
Text to: Fiona
One minute I was talking to Cole
And the next I was so out of it.
Text to: Shreya
Did he help you? That’s so scary omg
Where are you right now?
I’ll try to come to you.
Text to: Fiona
Well, he kind of forgot about me because his friends were talking nonstop... It’s whatever
I’m in the bathroom, second-floor K-pod.
Text to: Shreya
OKAYY
I just left my knight time.
***
Footsteps approached the bathroom sinks. My heart started thumping loudly as I tried to hold back tears.
“Fiona?” I whisper from the stall.
“Shreya?” I heard a girl whisper back. The voice belonged to Fiona.
“I’m in the stall furthest from the entrance,” I say as I peek through the cracks. The footsteps grew louder as she approached me. I unlock the door and Fiona pulled me into a tight hug. I buried my face in her shoulder as I hugged her back. It was comforting and made me feel safe. I forgot about where I was and why we were here for a moment. After a few minutes, it all hit me. I felt the emotions rushing to my chest and then to my head. I was overflowing with pain and it escaped my body in the form of tears. Why am I crying? Nothing happened to me.
Paused at 07:31:58.
***
“That’s what happened doc,” I say as I started to disconnect the wires attached to my brain and the computer.
My psychiatrist, Dr. Yoon, chuckled replying, “Technology now is far more advanced than in my day. I’ll never get tired of being able to watch people’s memories like a movie. PTSD is a lot more than a cause and effect situation. Sometimes, there isn’t anything clearly labeled as a trigger for these attacks. You need to stick around for a few more appointments to get to the basis of these panic attacks.”
“Hopefully we can get them to happen less frequently,” I say optimistically. I walk over to Dr. Yoon’s desk and fumble to find the button that shuts off the memory machine.
“Is this red button it, Dr. Yoon?” I asked as my finger hovered over the button. It had a symbol of a brain with a big X marked on top.
“Mhm,” she nodded while proceeding to write her notes. She didn’t look, but I guess there was only one button so what could go wrong? I pushed the button.
***
“Hi Shreya! Sorry for the postponement, I’m running a bit behind schedule today because of my previous patient.”
“Oh it’s no trouble, Dr. Yoon! By the way, do you happen to have some Tylenol? I suddenly have a headache,” I said as I watched a wave of panic wash over Dr. Yoon’s face. “Oh that’s not good! I’ll go fetch some in a minute. So, what brings you in today, Shreya?” she asked me nervously, forcing a smile.
“I actually had a panic attack again last Friday. I can’t figure out the trigger so I was hoping you could analyze it for me.”
“Of course I can sweetie! Just hook yourself up to the machine at my desk and have a seat. Just be careful not to press buttons without my knowledge again.”
As if I’d go around pressing random buttons like a child. Wait… again? What does she mean by that? It’s been a month since my last appointment and I don’t recall pressing any buttons back then. She probably just got me mixed up with some other patient from today. Man, she must be having a rough day.
I attached a few wires to my brain and plugged them into the computer.
“You ready?” Dr. Yoon asked from the couch as she wrote something down. The words “signal detected” lit up in bright green letters on the computer screen.
“Yeah, I’m ready!” I say, getting a sense of deja vu.