Luke's POV

As always, just as things start going great, something goes wrong. Today is that day where something went wrong.

When I woke up this morning, there was two missed calls from Michael from about an hour ago, which is weird because he rarely ever calls. And he's rarely ever awake so early. I've been frantically trying to call him back for the past 10 minutes, but he isn't picking up. I wait a few minutes and call again. He finally picks up.

"Hi, Luke. I'm sorry for calling so early, it's just Michael wanted me to and-" someone says. It's not Michael. It's a lady speaking.

"Sorry, who is this?" I ask, cutting her off.

"Oh, sorry! It's Karen, Michael's mom." She sounds nervous, and she's talking really quickly. Something is definitely wrong.

"Oh, okay. Is everything alright?" I ask, worried.

"Michael's in the hospital," she says quietly.

"Wait, what? Why? What's wrong?" I ask frantically. I quickly start getting dressed while staying on the phone. I don't remember Michael seeming sick. He seemed fine the last time I saw him, which was just a few days ago. Horrible thoughts start racing through my mind as to what might have happened.

"He had a very bad panic attack around midnight. I brought him to the ER, but he's finally in a room now. I didn't want to call you that early though and worry you. But he wanted me to call you," Karen tells me.

"I'll be over soon. Is he okay now?"

"He's still a little shaken up. It was one of the worst he's had."

"Okay. Tell him I'll be right there."

I hang up and quickly finish getting ready. I knock on my dad's bedroom door, but he's still asleep.

"Hey, Dad?" I whisper, walking closer to him. I've never had to wake him up before. "Dad?" I poke his shoulder a little, and he wakes up.

"What's wrong?" he whispers.

"Can we go to the hospital?" I ask him.

He bolts up frantically. "Why? What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine. It's Michael. He had a panic attack. Can you drive me?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Okay, thanks."

I wait nervously in my room for my dad to get ready. I hope Michael's okay. I know how bad it can be. I'm thankful it wasn't something life threatening like a car accident.

I'm also nervous to go to the hospital. I hate hospitals. Nothing good ever comes from them. Terrible news surrounds hospitals every day. The only good news is finding out you're being released.

Once my dad is ready, we start heading to the hospital. I anxiously tap my fingers against the window while we drive, wanting to get there as soon as possible. Michael's told me about his anxiety before, but he always said it wasn't too bad. He always said he could deal with it. But if he had to go to the hospital, I can imagine how awful it must have been.

After a few minutes, we finally get there. I tell my dad I want to go in by myself, and I'll call him when I'm ready to leave. I head to the front door slowly and take a deep breath before walking inside. I try my best to avoid hospitals all the time, but I have to see Michael. I had my first panic attack in the hospital, after Delia died. According to my doctor, a lot of people try to avoid places where they had a panic attack, which is why I hate hospitals so much, and why whenever I'm in one, my anxiety gets worse. I just have to deal with it.

I go up to the third floor, where Karen told me Michael is. I walk up to the front desk and ask for Michael. He's in room 302.

I quietly walk over to the room and knock  on the door. Karen opens it quickly and hugs me tightly, which takes me by surprise. I've only met her once.

"Thanks for coming," she whispers. She looks tired and worried. Her eyes are extremely red and puffy, like she's been crying for hours. It reminds me of how my mom used to look when things would happen to me.

"No problem. Can I have some time alone with him?" I ask. "You can go get something to eat, maybe. Take a break, you look exhausted. He'll be fine."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything," she says, turning to Michael. "I'm gonna leave for a little."

Michael gives her a thumbs up and smiles a little at me.

He's connected to some machines that are measuring his heartbeat, and he's hooked up to oxygen. It must have been pretty bad.

"Hey," I say quietly, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. I take a look around at all the familiar items that are in all hospital rooms. A small couch is in the corner and a whiteboard is on the wall with "Today's Plan" written across the top.

"H-Hi," he whispers, adjusting the oxygen tube.

I try to not think about how much my anxiety is rising just being in here.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad was it?" I ask in a serious voice to try to make him laugh. That's the first thing the doctors always ask.

"An e-eight." He cracks a small smile.

"That's rough. Do you wanna talk about it? It's okay if you don't. We can talk about other stuff."

Michael shrugs. "I w-woke up in th-the middle o-of the night, a-and it j-just happened. It s-started with j-just my heart b-beating faster, b-but it got b-bad. I c-couldn't breathe."

"Are you better now?"

Michael nods. "It w-was the worst e-ever."

I sigh. "I used to get them all the time. I ended up in the hospital too sometimes. It helps if you think about something else, something that's positive. You could listen to some music, you like music. It doesn't really stop the panic attack, it just takes your mind off it until it's better. Have you had any tests done?"

He nods again. "They're ch-checking my heart b-but they th-think I'm fine."

"Good. I'm sure you're okay. Does anyone else know?"

"N-no. Just y-you. You're th-the only p-person that u-understands."

I smile. "Did they say when you'll be out?"

"P-probably by the e-end of the day."

"That's great! Then you'll get to go home and have some real food. I brought you a muffin, by the way," I tell him, putting the muffin on the bedside table. "Hospital food sucks, so I figured you'd be hungry."

He laughs. "Th-thanks." He reaches over for the muffin and picks a tiny piece from the top to eat.

Michael seems much smaller than usual. He's surrounded by pale white, which somehow, makes him look paler. He looks worn out, like he could fall asleep at any second. He continuously yawns while eating the muffin.

I stay for over an hour, until a nurse comes in and tells me she needs to check on some things. Michael thanks me quietly and waves lightly as I leave.

When I make it outside the hospital, I sit down in one of the benches. I call my dad and wait until he's there to pick me up.

I thought I would be okay coming here, I honestly did. But I haven't been in a hospital for a few months, and now all the memories are coming flooding back and I'm not sure I can handle it. Hospitals hold so many terrible memories for me, and it's not somewhere I like to be.

My dad picks me up, and we don't say much. I rest my head against the window and shut my eyes. My dad realizes I don't want to talk, so he doesn't try to. He drives me to Delilah's because I need someone to talk to, and thankfully, she's home.

I walk inside and see Lucy watching TV.

"Hi, Lukey!" Lucy yells, waving to me.

"Hey, Lucy," I say quietly. "Is Delilah in her room?"

Lucy nods.

I quickly walk down the hall to Delilah's room so I can avoid seeing her parents. Her door is open a little, so I just walk in and she's typing something on her laptop.

"Hey!" she says when she sees me walking in. "What's wrong?" Her smile quickly fades. She closes her laptop and looks at me with wide eyes.

I shut the door. "How do you know something is wrong?" I ask quietly.

"You look like you're about to cry," she says, standing up and grabbing both of my hands. "What happened?"

"Michael's in the hospital for having a panic attack last night, and I went to visit him," I say quickly. I always talk faster when I'm upset. I can feel a few tears on my cheeks. I sit down on Delilah's bed, and she sits beside me. I take a deep breath and continue talking. "It's just- I saw myself in him. That was me a few months ago. I used to be lying in a hospital bed, wishing I was anywhere else. I used to be the one having a racing heart and difficulty catching my breath. I hate seeing people like that. I know how it feels, and I don't want anyone to feel that way. Ever." I run my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I'm sure Michael will be okay. I don't know what it's like to go through something like that, but the best thing to do it to be there for him. Just be his friend and help him through it, which you're doing. I'm positive that he's very thankful for that."

"It's just hard seeing him like that. It makes me realize how awful it must have been for my mom and Calum, you know? I put them through all that stress for months."

"And they didn't leave you, right? And you were happy to have them, even though you didn't always show it. That's how Michael feels too."

"But he shows it, at least. I made everyone feel like I hated them. All those months that I will never get back," I say, quietly.

"All that matters is that you've grown from it."

"I still lost all that time though," I say, cutting her off.

"Look at me," she whispers, lifting my head so I'm no longer looking at the floor. "We all love you very much. It's okay, everyone goes through tough times in their life. Some are worse than others. But you're here now. You are happy and talking, and we are all very thankful for that. Don't be upset with yourself for those months. It's okay to be sad, no one blames you for your problems."

She intertwines her fingers with mine, and I lean my head on her shoulder. She pushes some hair off my forehead gently.

"Michael will be fine. I promise. We just have to help him through this," she tells me.

"It's not just Michael. It was the hospital too. I had my first panic attack while I was in the hospital after Delia died. I've had countless since then. But hospitals just have such a bad atmosphere and being there brought back so many horrible memories. I couldn't take. If I had been there much longer, I would've broke. I was just to stay calm for Michael's sake, but it was so hard."

"You did it though. You made it, and you're okay now. Sometimes it's good to face things that make you feel not so great."

"I don't like taking chances with things like that though. I'd rather avoid anything that gives me anxiety."

"To overcome your anxiety, you're going to have to take some chances. It'll be worth it though."

I'm so sorry for not updating for awhile. I'll be in New York next week to meet my editor, so I don't know when I'll update. I won't make you wait too long though!

to stay updated with everything, make sure you're following my twitter, singsongash

A lot of you have asked for my PO box address again, so here it is:

Ashley Royer

PO Box 4145

Peabody, MA 01961

I will respond if you put a return address :)

love you!

-Ashley