It did no good.
I couldn’t get my lungs to fill with air.
I was dying, and there was nothing that could save me. Not in my dreams, nor in my real life.
Nothing.
“Please,” Zachariah pleaded, seeming to finally lose his cool.
If it was any other time, I would have thought he was overreacting for nothing, but I couldn’t freaking breathe!
His widened eyes and fearful look were more than I could handle on top of my own panic. My eyes rolled, and my body fell limp against Zachariah’s arms.
~oOo~
When I woke up, my eyes felt heavier than they should have been. My head was pounding, and I was tired. Almost as tired as I had been after the car accident.
“She’ll be fine,” I heard Violet utter. It was quiet and I assumed she was standing out in the hallway. “But I really think she needs some Ativan. It would help her greatly.”
“Not if there is another way to help her through this,” Zachariah growled out. I could picture him running a hand down his face in frustration.
“It’s up to her,” Violet argued.
“You said there were other methods,” Zachariah stated. “She’ll try those first.”
“Fine,” Violet sighed out as though it wasn’t worth fighting over. “But it’s still up to her.”
“No, it’s not,” Zachariah stated, ending the argument once and for all.
I pushed myself up on shaky arms, feeling like the idea of getting up was too much work. Violet walked into the room right as I sat up fully on the bed.
“Hey, there,” she greeted, a smile on her lips. Her hair was pulled back on the side so it stayed off her face with simple clips. Her eyes looked me over quickly before she made her way fully into the room, Zachariah close behind. It looked as though my husband had called Violet when I passed out. She was in her fancy workout clothes, but still well put together. She was the family doctor, after all.
I gave her a weak smile, not sure how to reply.
“How you feeling?” she asked.
Zachariah took a seat next to me on the bed and moved some of my hair away from my face that was sticking to my neck. I needed a shower and a nap despite the fact that I had just woken up.
“Tired,” I answered. “And weak. My chest hurts, too.”
“All normal for a panic attack,” Violet said easily. “It’ll take a couple of days for you to be back to normal.”
“Okay,” I replied, letting Zachariah pull me against his side as he wrapped his arm around me.
“As this isn’t your first attack,” she went on. “There are a few methods that can help. Zachariah has said that you wake up often from nightmares.”
“Yeah,” I answered, feeling ashamed of that fact.
“Sleeping pills, meditation, exercise, and therapy are a few of the methods,” she went on.
“No pills,” Zachariah growled.
“There is a pill I do insist you have on hand. Ativan. It helps during an attack extremely quickly,” she went on, ignoring my husband once more. “That will at least calm Mr. Worry wart a bit.”
“She passed out!” Zachariah seethed, still worried.
“Which can be scary,” Violet said, still keeping her calm doctor’s voice. “Which is why I think some sort of medication will help the best.”
