I paced back and forth, my feet sinking into the soft carpet, but the pressure in my chest made me feel like I was suffocating. Guttural noises filled my ears. And I realised it’s my breathing.
The room felt too small. The walls too close, and the silence was too loud. My fingers tugged at the ends of my sweater, twisting the fabric between them as if it might help me think, help me breathe.
But it still didn’t. I was not doing anything wrong. Then why was I feeling this way? Every second that ticked by crawled beneath my skin, making it harder to keep still. My heart was a wild animal caged in my ribcage, hammering against my chest.
I’ve been up for past some hours now. And the fact that I could still hear Ivan’s words in my ears should be alarming. Was I really thinking of going again
