BANG.

You slammed the heavy closet door shut behind you. The sound shook the room, sending something loudly clattering to the floor. A can? A bucket? You couldn’t tell; your vision was blurry with the tears beginning to overflow from your eyelids. You screwed your eyes shut, clapping your hands over your ears to block out the sounds resonating in the tiny chamber. But all that did was make the thundering of your heart ever louder. And as you noticed it, it got faster. And louder. And faster and louder still. You gasped for air like you were drowning. You just needed to breathe. Nice and slow. In, out, in, out. Let your breaths calm yourself. It wasn’t working. Your lungs didn’t obey you. Your breaths felt sharp and painful in your chest, which only made them come faster. Hot, angry tingles were washing across your face. You couldn’t tell if it was blood rushing to your cheeks or tears pouring down them. At some point, you felt your rear touching the cold concrete floor. Your back rocked painfully against the wall with every shuddering gasp. Just needed to be calm. You couldn’t calm yourself. Breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t –

“Hey, you okay?”

Words, somewhere at the edge of your consciousness. You heard the syllables, but your brain refused to process them. Someone was here. They could hear you gasping and bawling like an infant. They could see you curled up on the floor, weak and pathetic. You wanted to run, to hide, to scream, but you couldn’t help yourself but keep on heaving and heaving and –

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here, nothing’s going to hurt you, nobody’s going to judge you. Just focus on my voice. Nice and slow, calm and gentle. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

A warm, gentle pressure on your forearm, on your shoulder. You were vaguely aware of someone crouching down beside you, trying to comfort you. You still couldn’t really understand what they were saying, but their voice was nice. Slow, smooth, warm and sweet. Familiar. An itch of memory tingled in the back of your mind, a feeling more than a conscious thought. But the panic surged back into focus, blotting out the momentary respite. Your chest seized. You were about to start bucking into them again when –

“It’s okay to relax.”

A point of pressure on the back of your neck, right at the base of your skull. Tingly, floaty warmth suddenly expanded through your mind, filling your consciousness. It was like someone had suddenly inflated a balloon inside your head, pushing aside your terror and replacing it with a familiar feeling of… softness. The fear was still there, but… it was shrinking, smaller, and smaller, and…

“…smaller, as you sink deeper, and deeper, and deeper. There we go. That’s it. Heading down deep into that comfy, cozy, familiar feeling of trance. Taking those nice, slooooow breaths. In… and out… in… and out. And that just feels so much better, doesn’t it? To feel that wave of relaxation washing over you with every… exhale… and when you inhale… bringing that sense of clarity and focus. It’s okay to relax. It’s okay to drift. Your troubles are still there, but you can deal with them. I can help bring you that sense of clarity and comfort to help you tackle whatever problems you might have. Because you can tackle them. But you don’t have to tackle them alone. I’m here now, to help you tackle them. To help you feel safe, and calm, and at peace while you tackle them. And if you don’t want to tackle them right now, that’s okay. Just remember that it’s okay to relax.”