Find Me

Chapter 3

Charlotte

            It is so bright I cant even open my eyes. My bed feels different, it smells different, and then I know. It’s not mine. I cannot breathe and I have a panic attack. Not the, oh I am stressed and uncomfortable kind, the stomach clenching kind where you cannot take in any air and you cannot speak or move. You just sit there and hope someone is there to help you. But no one is here to help me. I am in a stranger’s bed, a stranger’s room. I did this to myself. How could I be so dumb? I start to convulse and I try to yell out, to do anything, but I can’t.

            “Hey, Charlotte, hey its okay, you are okay” I hear from… is that the floor? I look over as far as I can and I see the boy I met outside and who last night, I found is apparently my neighbor. He reaches for me and I know my eyes open more wide, but I cannot help it. “I won’t hurt you I promise. I am going to hold our hand to try and comfort you, but I promise, everything will be okay.” He grabs my hand and surprisingly it does help. He makes small talk, I learn his name is Liam and he is originally from New York but moved to New Hampshire when he was in middle school. He is a senior, like me, but transferred here last year. He likes to run, but mostly it is to keep him in shape because he also likes to eat. He has a deep voice, eyes that have green on the outside but turn blue towards the middle.

            When I finally feel like I can speak, my voice scratches out, “I am so sorry” and of course, I start bawling.

Liam

            I wake up to a weird noise, like what houses next to train tracks sound like in the movies when a train is going by. Groggily I look around for a second, and then realize it is coming from the bed. At first I think she is choking, I know people vomit when drunk, but then I see her face and I know she is having a panic attack. After my brother died, I had one almost every week for over half a year, so I know. I try to comfort her and let her know that she was all right and safe. Last night she seemed to be concerned with someone hurting her and I reassure her that she is safe. I take her hand and make small talk until she is done, and when she says, “I am so sorry” I think it breaks my heart.

“Don’t ever be sorry about having a panic attack,” I say, wiping her tears as they fall rapidly down her face. “They are not something that can easily be controlled and it is not your fault”

“Everything is my fault,” she sobbed. “I should never have gone out, never should have drunk. It was stupid of me and if I weren’t here I would have been in someone else’s room. I am a f*****g idiot.”

“Stop, Charlotte, you are not. Nothing happened, you are fine. Please, take a deep breath.” I said hoping they were the right words. Apparently they were not.

“Fine? FINE? Do I look fine to you? I am bawling in the bed of someone I do not know. I don’t even remember how I got here, and for all I know I could have been somewhere else first. I ruin everything and that panic attack was my own fault for allowing myself to be put into a situation where I would get one!”

“Okay, so you are not fine. How do you think you put yourself in a situation to get a panic attack, are you that scared of strangers?”

She looks at me and I can see the fear, regret, sadness, and so much more, written across her features and in her eyes. “Its not just strangers. You never know who you can trust, who will make you regret ever meeting them,” she says with a hollow voice, picking at my sheet. “Can I please go home?” she asks, hugging her knees to her chest, still not looking at me.

“Sure, I will call security”

“No! I, um, I think I know where I left my keys,” she replied hastily, her head whipping up.

I know she is lying to me, but I don’t want to push her anymore. “Okay, well if you need anything, you know where to find me.” I watch her as she slips on her shoes and puts her hair into a knot at the top of her head.

“Thank you, for last night and this morning” she said before leaving. Once again not making eye contact with me. She opens the door and leaves. I know she said she climbs through her window, but I don’t understand how that is possible so I look out mine and wait for her to come out of the building. After a few minutes I see her, then the tree, and I make the connection. I watch as she climbs up the tree and scoots down a branch until she is almost right next to me. Then she is gone.

I turn around and sit on my bed. I feel good from being with her, but also terrible because she is clearly hurting. I think about what it could be, she said it wasn’t just strangers, and her comment about regretting meeting someone gave me a thought. Someone she knew did something to her. I hope it is not physical, but from reading her body language, the way she pulls away form contact, I know that it has to be.