Panic - Erin MacDonald

Panic
Erin MacDonald
 
She placed it down on the cluttered counter and began to pace the room. The cold bathroom tile made her shiver, although she found it hard to distinguish what sent the chill up her spine. What had she done? She thought back to that one momentary lapse of judgment. How it lured her in, chewed her up, and spit her out, leaving her feeling hollow and alone. The only comfort she can find in the present moment is the repetition of her steps in her stride across the room.
It stared right back at her from across the room. Glared, almost. She didn’t want to let it control her, she couldn’t. Why should it? Nothing at this moment felt tangible.
She made her way over to the sink and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t even concentrate on the person looking back at her. She kept looking through her and imagining the person she may have to become.
She had to face it. It was inevitable. There was no use in prolonging this moment. She looked down at it. There were two faint blue lines.

 

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