For a moment I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. All I could do was blink, trying to clear my vision enough to really see if this was David or not. Tears were slowly streaming down my face as I felt my chest ache in the worst way.

Seeing him made my knees give out and thank god for Vimla for holding me up as my lungs collapsed in my chest. The room was spinning and dark circles formed around the corner of my eyes. I was floating.

Darkness was slowly closing in on me and I let it take me. I let it envelop me and cradle me off to wherever if it meant not being here in this moment.

It wasnt long before I passed out.

My eyes fluttered open, I was laying down on a bed that wouldn't stop shaking violently. I must have been in an ambulance.

My eyelids felt heavy so I stopped trying to keep my eyes open and I just lay there. Listening to the constant beeping of a machine that I was plugged to and the steady humming of traffic around us.

For a split second I'd wished that I almost didn't wake up. The thought startled me a little. Never in my life have I cared about not living. Even on days when the boys at school would shove me in my locker, pee on my lunch and do all kinds of things to me. I always stayed strong, but not this time.

I felt the bed I was on slide down something and the atmosphere around me was quieter now. I guess we had arrived at the hospital.

Suddenly someone was pulling my eyelids back as a bright light was shone directly at my eye and a cold metal pressed against my chest.

Strong hands moved me from the moving bed onto a stationary one. I felt someone's hand enclose mine as people spoke over me. Vimla must have ridden on the ambulance with me.

They must have given me a sedative because before I knew it my eyelids few heavier and I was knocked out cold.

"Mr Smith," I heard someone call out to me as they lightly shook me.

"Yeah." My throat was a bit scratchy.

"Your parents are here." This caused my eyes to widen.

My parents were a white British couple that adopted me when I was still a baby, hence the name Wilhem Smith. I went home for dinner every once in a while but other than that, I didn't see them much. No college student saw their parents much.

So it was a surprise to see them here.

"How are you here?" I asked.

"We are still your emergency contact, the hospital called us." My mother said. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun and she was wearing a blue navy suit. She must have come here from work.

"What happened to you Will?" my father questioned. He squeezed my shoulder as a way to comfort me but he squeezed me a bit too tight. I smiled at the familiar touch. My father was far from soft and gentleness didn't come easy for him but he accepted me anyway.

"Wilhem suffered a panic attack that caused him to fall and hit his head." The doctor answered for me. He looked through the clipboard he held in his hand and went on. "From the looks of it he doesn't have a concussion, although his stress levels seems to be high."

"So you think he had a panic attack because of stress?" My father asked.

"Precisely."

My mother looked at the doctor, her arms wrapped around her torso."Can we have a moment?"

"Sure, I'll be back shortly to perform a psychological evaluation to see whether or not we can release Mr Smith."

"Thank you." My father said as he shook the doctor's hand.

"Wilhem, what's going on? Your father and I are worried about you."

"Well pre-law isn't exactly the easiest course out there. I've just been swamped with schoolwork and I guess it got to me." I lied.

I was doing great at school, I have alway been good at micro-managing my responsibilities. I was always on top of things and my schedule wasn't hectic enough to enduce a panic attack.

"Aw honey," my mother cooed.

"I've always told you not to overwork yourself. It's okay to take a break every once in a while, have some time to yourself." My father advised.

"When I was university I always had to remind myself that I needed to take a break." There he goes again talking about when I was your age or when I was in university. . . I chuckled at his words.

"Hey, it worked for me. I never had any panic attacks." He teased.

My mother elbowed him in the stomach to reprimand him. She'd always hated how insensitive my father could be sometimes. He didn't mean to, he just had a mean sense of humour that's all.

"It's okay mum," I told her. I understood my father's sense of humour.

"Promise me you'll take better care of yourself Will." My mum said.

"Sorry to interrupt." A petite doctor said, pulling the curtains open. "I'm here for Wilhem Smith's psychological evaluation."

"That'll be me." I spoke up.

"I'm going to need you two to leave us." She told my parents.

My mother looked at me almost as if to ask me if I was comfortable with it.

"I think I can handle one psychological evaluation without having a panic attack mum." I assured her.

She hesitated for a moment before letting my father lead her outside to the waiting area.

The petite doctor focused her attentions on me now and she took a seat next to my bed.

"Hello Wilhem, can I call you Wilhem?" I nodded. "My name's Doctor Menroe."

"Wilhem, the reason we decided to do this was because you had multiple bruises along your thighs and hips. That, paired with the panic attack and the fact that those bruises appear to be fresh is consistent in sexual assault victims." She began. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, but I'm here to listen. Talking does help."

"So what? we'll talk and everything will be fine. . . is that it?" I scoffed.

"No." She set her clipboard on her knee. "We'll talk and I determine whether or not to let you go home. Sexual assault victims often spiral out of control after the attack and sometimes they try to harm themselves or others. I'm here to make sure that you aren't a danger to yourself or to others."

"This is a joke. I had a panic attack and now you think I'm suicidal?"

"No, not necessarily. I have to finish the evaluation to determine that and we haven't even started." She smiled at me. "Is it okay if I asked you a few questions?"

"Sure, why not?"
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author's note

not my best work, but i missed yesterday's deadline so I had to put something out.