A fire-y hue of fluster creeps its way up my neck and engulfs my cheeks in a rose heat. Air mocks me, refusing to fill my lungs and instead weaving into a much-too-tight corset of immense tension. My chest aches. My fingers tingle. My mind screams.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

A joking jab just below my skull starts the 3D Imax of my mind on its infinite loop. I recoil, shrinking, shrinking, shrinking until I am no more than the same small ball of anxiety that I became that awful night.

“Dang relax dude, who hurt you?” Another joke.

No one will believe you the air conditioner whispers.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

A button falls off the sleeve of my favorite flannel. My Carolina blue whirlpools wrap themselves in a clenched hug of red. My eyes may scream allergic reaction but I will. not. cry.

Frantic.

I borrow a sweatshirt for the day and rip the plaid fabric from my shoulders before it can brand any more horrid memories on this body that is no longer mine. I tremble to the bathroom, taking seven hysteric steps to everyone else’s one, then covertly store the reminder deep in the round file.

But it still sits there, staring at me, ridiculing me.

Why did you go pick him up? You knew he was drunk It pleads.

I empty the entire roll of paper towels, flinging them on top one after another to make the stupid shirt shut up. When the paper towels run out I stumble out the door, praying no one sees the lunatic falling apart in the hallway.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

The weight of 5000 eyeballs fills the void where my hair used to rest on my shoulders. Infinite lies, half-truths, and gossiped words layer into a blanket so thick that I’d lose my already-lost voice trying to scream over it.

They don’t want to hear it anyway my squeaking footsteps mention.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

Blonde hair and kind eyes. She greets me with a smile regardless of her day’s start. When I look at her all the words bubble up inside of me, like a shaken soda can begging to be opened. Maybe I should… Maybe I even could…

Good one shoots down the desk.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

Until the next day, that is. She waits to catch my sleepy eyes then locks in, looking through the straight A’s, looking through the painted-on smile, looking through the friendly charisma until all that remains is the broken girl behind iron bars, squinting in the unfamiliar light of exposure.

“Are you okay?” She mouths, not to me, but to the prisoner.

The floor pulls my eyes down in an instant.

You’re just imagining things. She didn’t really ask that. It confirms.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

I give in to the heaviness of the world, morphing into a precariously balanced blanket burrito. My weight teeter-totters with every breath; I am nearly falling off the edge of the bed, then sinking back into the cushy foam mattress pad. Falling, sinking, falling, sinking, a body perpetually stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Tick, tock, tick, tock goes the clock, impatiently awaiting my decision.

Maybe I should…

Falling, sinking, falling, sinking.

You deserved it anyway… The lonely wind rasps from outside the window.

Falling, sinking, falling, sinking.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Maybe I even could…

A flaming hue of fluster tip-toes up my neck and swallows my cheeks in a bright heat. Air laughs, dancing away from my lungs and instead settling heavily on my tired shoulders. My chest aches. My fingers tingle. My mind screams.

I grab a pen.

I am quietly unquiet.

The moment passes on.

My heart pounds, a steady, much-too-fast clock keeping time in my chest. My clammy ice cube hands beg to be stuffed in my pockets rather than holding this ticking time bomb of a cry for help.

No. I will do this.

The thick wooden door greets me with a squeal as I awkwardly swing it open. I avoid the maternal glance of the secretary, drop the self-care package in the compassionate teacher’s mailbox, and fly away. Terror ensues.

I am quiet.

The moment passes on.

A hero greets me with open arms. Help, disguised as a 60-minute conversation, pulls me from the lonely depths of sadness back into the real world. My body becomes mine. My belly remembers how good it feels to tremble with laughter. My eyes remember how nice it feels to let the hurricane loose. My heart remembers the warmth of connection. My shoulders remember that hugs can be good, hugs can be safe. My life, the big, overwhelming knot of good and bad and happy and sad and lost and found returns home, ready to feel real. Tangent after tangent is rambled through until the well of words dries up and all the remains is an empty fullness of gratitude.

My hero wears no cape. She answers no late night light in the sky. But her compassion, her kindness, has saved my life.