By Paula C
Oh shit, not again.
Air, I need air. Who's depriving me of air here, I know like, that air, is like everywhere.
Oh man, I'm losing it.
Damn panic attacks.
Breathe, damn it.
Paper bag, someone stuck a paper bag in my hand. Guiding it to my mouth, holding it over my mouth and nose, telling me to breathe.
I would, if I could, you know, I know how to breathe.
Man, I hate this; I hate having panic attacks.
A hand is running small circles along my back, while the other continues to hold the bag to my face, telling me to breathe in and out.
Slowly, I start to relax, my chest less tight. I start to breathe like it's a normal thing.
The hand continues to soothe. I start to hear the calming voice beside me. I turn to look at who is helping me, Jim.
"How ya' doing?" he asks.
"Been better," I say meekly.
"Think you'll be okay?"
I shrug my shoulders. I look to see I'm in the PD restroom. I don't remember coming in here. "What happened?"
"Remember I told you to keep your personal life straight, you know, dating both Sam, Ali, and Gwen at the same time from the same precinct was bound to get you into trouble. All three approached the desk with a look of 'kill Sandburg' in their eyes. You took off for the bathroom where …"
"I proceeded to have a panic attack."
Looking at the door, I ask, "Are they still out there?"
"No. I called out that you were having a panic attack and kind of yelled at Simon to get them out of here."
I smile for a moment, "Always my blessed protector."
"Well I can only help this time around. You, my boy, have three angry PD ladies pissed at you. All I can do is say: 'watch your back.'"
"Man, I screwed up this time."
"Yeah you did, but so far you're still alive."
I make a motion of a gun with my hand and brought it to my head. "Shoot me now."
"Can't, first I would get life for killing you and Second, I'm not letting you off that easy."
"You and your principles."
Jim smiles down at me. "Well, that's what you love about me."
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