She ran from the warmth of the restaurant to the cold toilet. The coolness of the room knocked the euphoria from the meal further into the background.
She locked the door with trembling hands. All sense of reality escape, and the quivering body she inhabited became a turmoil of loudly beating heart, cold sweat and shaking.
"Breath," she ordered herself. Even her thoughts were racing, her words gasping and she was falling into the black hole once more. "Breath," she inhaled although it felt she was already drowning in air. It gulped into her lungs in large mouthfuls tightening its grip on her chest, sending pins and needles down her arms. Nausea was settling over her. She would surely faint. Or was she dying? She tried to remember the coping skills to help calm her. What was the worst that could happen? She knew the answer. She knew the answer and it did nothing to ease.
"Why now? she wailed, striving to fight back from the horror of the moment, and knowing too well she was losing.
The evening with Dan had gone so well. Ginos was a fine Italian restaurant. She loved Italian food. They had chosen it together. Dan had reassured her with his attentiveness all evening, and she had left the wine alone.
She banged her fist on the door. "Why now?"
The strength in her legs left and she crumpled to the floor. Not in tears. Just melting into the misery that was engulfing her. She fought hard against it, yet it fought back harder. It was stronger than her. She was succumbing to it ans she knew she had reached the point of no return. There was no point in fighting now. It just made it worse. Sitting with her back to against the door it dragged her down, down, down. Down into the pit of nausea, shaking, fear. She was being lost to the intense pain that held no marks, no bruises, no fractures. She pulled up her knees and pulled her coat over her head.
©️Lorraine Poulter 2016
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