Beauty and the Brain: Say You're Mine

She couldn't breathe. Her hands clawed at her neck, begging the universe to let some air in. She was going to suffocate and die in this storage room unless she got a f*****g grip. Her secrets were finally coming to a head, putting an unbearable pressure on her chest. In. Out. In Out. It wasn't f*****g working. Remember what mommy taught you. Five things you can see. The cases of liquor lined against the wall. Gray colored walls boxing her in. Black tile floors so shiny she could see her distraught reflection staring back at her. Soft lights shining down from the ceiling. The heavy black door separating her from an irate ex who wanted to throttle her. Four things she could hear. The thump of the music blasting in the upper level of the club. Footsteps approaching; probably one of the staff heading for one of the supply or dressing rooms. Maybe the bathroom. The doorknob rattling. An angry voice shouting her name, asking if she was hiding in there. Fuck. Three things she could feel. Fear. Anxiety. Panic. Wait --- those aren't right. Two things she could smell. Nothing, because she still couldn't get any air in. One thing she could taste. The salt from her tears. The longer she stayed in here, the bigger scene it would cause when one of her staff eventually made their way downstairs looking for her or supplies. There was too much at stake for her to stay in here and let the panic attack send her into a fatal spiral. She forced what little oxygen she could into her lungs, and exhaled shakily before reaching for the doorknob. Time to face the music. She turned the lock, twisted the handle, and swung the door back. Livid hazel eyes met her horrified gaze. His nostrils flared as he lifted his foot to take a step towards her. Shit.