Have you ever felt an emotion so deeply that it overtook your body, leaving your trembling, only hoping to swallow the bile back down? It can be any emotion really: sadness, fear, anger. Well, I guess any on the unhappy end of emotions. It leaves you wanting to throw up, cry, and stop shaking. Just stop damn shaking. 

I'm not even sure how to explain it, only if you've ever felt it, would you know. It's like you can't remember how to breathe, and standing up would be a huge mistake as you would just fall to the ground; no strength in your legs. 

It kills you, and you wonder how you can even feel an emotion in such a powerful way. 

It's like a panic attack, anxiety attack, and seizure combined. 

This is exactly how I feel right now.

I can't even register what's going on, only that I'm breathing heavily, desperately trying to get air into my lungs. 

What is going on, I think. And then it all clicks. I've seen this before. 

I stand up from the chair I'm seated in, trying to keep my face from hitting the ground. 

I let out a shaky breath as I reach the door. I smell the disinfectant and stand outside my father's hospital room. 

I step back and let out a tear as I see several nurses rush into his room. 

Not again. No, not again. 

I walk a little closer to the door, not daring to look. I can hear his blood pressure alert going off. It's beeping really slowly. I breathe heavily, it suddenly feeling very hot. 

I think I'm starting to feel a little when I hear the worst sound I can possibly imagine - flatline. 

I see another nurse run in, rolling a defibrillator on a cart. 

I try to stay conscious as I feel myself about to pass out. I remember to take deep breaths, slowly leaning against the wall and sliding down. 

After a couple minutes, I hear a nurse quietly say, "Time of death - 18:27."

I let a silent, single tear escape from my left eye before I put my head in my hands. 

I quickly sit up with a small gasp, realizing that I am in my bed. 

I let out a breath of relief, and look at the clock. It's 4AM. Sighing, I get up, knowing I won't be able to go back to sleep, and got to the bathroom to do all my business. 

Once I get out with a towel wrapped around my head, I go downstairs to make a bowl of Captain Crunch. Bro, that stuff is the bomb.com. I start eating my cereal, savoring the goodness. 

I wonder if my mom knows I still have nightmares. I've been having them once a week, every week, for 8 years. I've had that dream 416 times, and yet, it still fools me everytime. Everytime, I have no idea where I am. I used to scream when I first got them, considering I was 9. After I turned about 12, I stopped screaming. There was no need to worry someone else with problems I caused. So, no matter how afraid I was, I didn't let myself scream. 

I quickly finish my cereal, glad it's  Friday. I rinse my bowl, putting it into the dishwasher, before making my way (downtown) to the living room. My mother is watching TV for a little bit before she has to go to work at around 5. 

In the last couple days, nothing has really happened. I took care of Gloria's garden, did homework, watched TV, and eat food. I haven't gone to the hospital in a few days. I can't do it. I don't know why. 

I watch TV for a while before my mom has to leave. 

"Bye, Mom. Love you," I tell her. 

"I love you, too," she responds.

I bring my eyes back to the TV before I remember something, "Hey mom!"

My mother raises her eybrows as if asking me 'what?'

"Don't forget, if the whole 'Rhonda-the-stripper' doesn't work out, you can always become a author," I grin widely at her after I finish. 

She bursts out laughing, leaning against the wall, so she doesn't fall over, "Ok, I gotcha sweetie."

She takes a moment to collect herself before I hear the sound of a door closing. 

I remember that day.

"Where did you get all the ones," I hear my father question playfully. 

My mother's silent for a second. 

"Is it from your stripper job," my father asks.

My mother chuckles, "Yes, my stage name is Rhonda."

My eyes widen as I stumble back, falling into the wall. I'm leaning against the hallway, out of sight. When you're 8 years old, that's pretty surprising. I only knew what that was from TV. TV these days is very inappropriate.

They both burst out laughing and I rush into the living room where my parents are situated. 

My dad got home yesterday and they were having a movie/date night. 

I get in front of my parents, "WHAT?!" 

My parents start crying as they laugh harder. I wait impatiently as they calm themselves. 

"Baby, I need to tell you something," my mother starts singing the 'I don't got no bellybutton' Larry's silly song. 

I roll my eyes, not impressed. 

She chuckles at my reaction before responding, "I was kidding, kid. I'm not an actual stripper."

I let out a breathe of relief before my eyes widen as my mother questions me, "Wait. How do you even know what a stripper is?!"

I chuckle, "It's your fault. Considering that you talk about strippers like it's normal, I would say it would happen sooner of later."

"Preferably later," my mom yells, exasperated. 

I have to do a double take as I glance at my dad, who has his ears covered humming, "Living on a Prayer". 

I chuckle as I realize he's making a parody. 

"Woah she's halfway there. Woah I'm living on a prayer. When she turns 16, I'll be so scared, woah for her boyfriend she better say a prayer," he sings. 

My mother and I burst out laughing and he rolls his eyes at us, "Hey, you did NOT have to go through that with your sweet daughter."

I laugh harder and my stomach hurts. 

I turn to walk out, but quickly turn back around, "Hey, mom, if the whole 'Rhonda-the-stripper' thing doesn't work out, you can always become a chef."

My mother's jaw drops open as my father bursts out laughing like a hyena on drugs.

I walk out with a smile on my face. 

Ever since that day, I always stated different jobs, usually things that she was good at. 

A huge grin forms on my face as I turn my eyes back to the TV currently on - "Gilmore Girls". I love that show so much. Right now, I was watching the episode where Rory turns 16. I smile as I watch young Rory. 

After a while, I realize it's 7:20AM. Knowing that I have to get to school soon, I turn the TV off and get everything ready before exiting my house. I lock the door and get in my car. 

I start my drive to school as I turn on the radio and listen to a random song. I quickly realize it to be "If I Ruled the World" by Big Time Rush, and I jam out. I stop at a stop light and scream the lyrics, not caring who hears. 

SO  EVERYBODY GET UP UP OUT OF YOUR SEATS 

KICK OFF YOUR SHOES LIKE YOU'RE DOWN AT THE BEACH

JUMP UP UP UP

ON THE BEAT SINGING "AYE OH AYE OH AYE OH"

UP UP OUT OF YOUR SEATS

BE WHO YOU ARE LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED

ALL OF US  GEEKS, FREAKS, AND WANNABES SINGING "AYE-"

I glance around, but falter when I see someone I recognize staring at me with amusement on their face.

My eyes widen as I quickly press of the gas pedal, grateful the light has turned green. 

I facepalm myself as embarrassment floods my thoughts. 

I quickly make it to school and shut my car off, walking inside. I get to my class, checking the clock to see it's 7:40AM. I grab out my book I bring with me everywhere, and begin reading. 

15 short minutes later, class starts. Today I have a class. I don't remember which one it is until I see my teacher walk in. I feel like I should know considering it's only the 2nd/3rd week of school and it was muscle memory to get here, but oh well. 

I see my English teacher walk in, and I become excited, knowing that I'll have fun. Math and English are my favorite classes. People think that's weird because it's usual for students to like one over the other, or neither, but I find both intriguing. The teacher talks about the stuff we have to do over the weekend, and let's us get a head start in class. 

We're supposed to write an essay about ourselves and I quickly finish it during class. I spend about an hour on it, and I have it finished. I edit it a few times and turn it in right as the bell rings. 

My teacher looks at me incrediously, before sighing

"You're one of those students," he says less a question, more a statement. 

I smile at him cheekily, and grab my bookbag before exiting the classroom.

_____

Right now it's lunch and I sit with Caden, in the cafeteria. I've been sitting here for a few days, but I'm still upset. I'm not mad, but I do wish I could find a better place to sit. 

Sighing, I quickly stand up, startling Caden.

Hurriedly, he takes a bite of his sandwich before speaking, "Fhat are you pooing?"

I raise my eyebrows, "Well, for your information, I am not pooing. However, I am finding a better spot to eat lunch. Whether you come with me or not is your choice."

I turn around and start making my way towards the football field. 

After a few seconds, Caden catches up with me, holding his sandwich in his hand. He takes a second to breathe, before commenting, "You... walk... really... fast."

I chuckle, knowing that people tell me that a lot. 

We continue to walk, (well, I walk while Caden jogs a little), the comfort silence setting over us like a glow from the sunrise. 

We soon make it to the football field, and I sit on the bleachers, enjoying the silence. 

It's surprisingly cold for early September, but that's Kansas for you. It's 90 degrees one day, 50 the next. 

After about 10 minutes, Caden speaks, "Hey, G, I have to get to history to retake that test."

"Alright, I gotchu," I respond, looking at him. 

He nods his head and walks away. 

I look out onto the field and smile, happy to be ALL BY MYSELF for once. 

This silence doesn't last long as I glance to my left to see someone familiar staring at me about 6 inches away from my face. 

"Bro, WHAT THE CRAPOLA?! I almost lost my coconuts," I shout, flinching. 

I quickly back away, freaked out.

"Calm down, Gloria," he says. 

I roll my eyes, "When you scare the Tweety Bird out of me, I'm bound to have a reaction like that!"

He raises his eyebrows, "So... we going to talk about your little concert this morning?"

I glare at him, "I'd rather not. So, what? I just happened to be jamming out while your nose made it's way into my business."

He chuckles, "Ok, sure. More like you were screaming from the rooftops and I was standing on the ground like an ant."

"Rude," I state like Jack Black and he laughs. 

"So, how are you doing," he asks me. 

"I'm fine. You," I ask him. 

He scoff, "Fine? Nobody's fine. Fine is the response you give when pain gets too hard to bear, but you know no one cares."

Pickle on rye, he's good, Juan says.

I know, I think.

I gulp and look away, not wanting to admit he's correct, "I'm ok. You?"

"I'm good," he tells me. 

I look back at him as I respond, "Good. Well, I have to go to class, but I'll see you around."

"Ok, see you later, Gloria," he answers. 

I give a small smile, "Bye, Lucas."

I walk back down the bleachers and into the school. 

Hey y'all. Sorry, I know this chapter is kinda short, but I hope you liked it. Also, please comment guys. I don't even care about voting (once I become a smarter author, I probably will), I just love reading y'all's comments! Well, that's all I have to say so... see ya later!

-AFatBurrito