Just a quick note. I'll probably put music videos up before the writing. It doesn't necessarily go with the book, it's just like a song of the day. That one is Panic Station by Muse. It's kinda ironic. Also, the actual music video (this is just the audio) is hilarious if you need a laugh.

My first panic attack happened when my mom left.

I was sitting up in my room trying to read when the screaming match began. But, as I was soon to find out, it wasn't the usual short fight where my parents shouted for five minutes and then made up.

At first I tried to just put on my headphones and play Green Day, my comfort music. After about twenty minutes I took them out, sure the fight was over. The house was silent.

Weird, I thought. But I pushed my worry aside and looked back at my book. After fifteen minutes, I realized that the house was just too quiet. I set my book down and peeked into the hall. Empty.

I crept down the stairs, terrified that I'd find a masked murderer stalking towards me. What I encountered when I reached the living room was almost as bad. Everything breakable in the room was on the floor in shards; picture frames, vases, even my mom's prized Murano glass dolphin.

What scared me the most was that I could see blood smeared all over the glass and little droplets on the floor leading towards the kitchen. I cautiously picked my way to the swinging door that led to the kitchen and peeked in.

My dad was sitting at the table, head in his hands and surrounded by bottles of beer and whiskey.

"Dad?" I asked.

He grunted in response.

I made my way over to him.

"Where's Mom?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh, I don't think she's coming back," he was slurring his words.

"Why?"

My dad rose and looked at me with clouded, brown eyes, the same color as mine. Suddenly, his face changed. There's no way to describe what he looked like. Almost savage, like an animal. He spun around and swept all the bottles off the table. They broke against the wall and the floor, glass and liquid flying everywhere.

I flinched back. He took a step towards me. I stepped back, my foot coming in contact with the wall.

"Da--ad," my voice cracked.

His face twisted even more. "She couldn't handle us anymore!" My dad was shouting now, spit flying and veins pulsing.

I curled into myself, whimpering.

"Why are you so weak?" he shouted.

"I--I--I don--"

I was cut short by a blow to my face. I flew to the side and didn't register what was happening until my face started stinging. Badly. I put a hand to my cheek. It was wet with tears and my lip was bleeding. What had just happened?

My dad came over so he was looking right down at me. "Go to your room."

I just stared, disbelieving. He'd always been so gentle with me. The whole thing just didn't make sense.

"I said," he stooped down grabbing me roughly under the armpits and lifting me to my feet, "go to your room." He pushed me out of the door so hard, I fell. My hands caught me but the glass was still everywhere and I rushed up the stairs and into my room, hands dripping blood.

I ran to my bathroom, searching frantically for my tweezers. There was no way I could think about anything except getting that glass out of my hands, otherwise I'd have a breakdown. I found the tweezers and disinfectant. Soon, all the glass was out. Then I took the disinfectant in my left hand, put my right hand over the sink and poured. It burned like hell. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard, I tasted blood. I did the same thing with the other hand and then found a roll of gauze in another drawer and did my best to wrap my hands up.

Then the situation really hit me and I can't say exactly what happened next. I just know that I couldn't breathe, I was shaking and just about ready to hurl. It was a panic attack. Everything was closing in and I could see my dad's face going from calm to furious over and over.

Somehow, I got myself up, grabbed my car keys, stumbled down the stairs and went out the front door. I made it to the driveway and fell against my car. My fingers clawed at its sleek, blue surface.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The blue color consumed me and I began calming down. I stared at it, breathing heavily until I could finally control what I was doing. I stood up and unlocked the car, sliding into the driver's seat. Knowing I should calm down first, I just sat there, key in the ignition.

Suddenly, the door to my house opened and my dad strode out. "Delilah!"

I turned the key frantically, put the car into reverse and floored it. As I turned to drive down the street, I saw a familiar figure standing on the terrace of our neighbor's house, finger on the doorbell.

It was as I was leaving the neighborhood when I realized that the figure was Wesley Hannigan, the it-guy from school and he had seen everything.

If anyone is actually reading this, just know that it gets better. I suck at writing intros to anything. But I'm genuinely excited about this story. It's one I actually plan on finishing. So I hope you keep reading and give my first story a shot. Thank you! 💩