Post by lucadragonais on Sept 23, 2010 2:15:27 GMT
He wanted to beat it. Damnit.
The young male frowned as he poked his fork at the meat on his plate. He usually had nothing against food - he wasn't going to bitch and moan like all the eating disorders who got their panties in a twist just because they had to eat a bite of meat so they didn't keel over and die - but today was different. Now was different. He poked at a neatly cut piece of meat, a way of buying time before he actually ate it, and watched as it remained the same. Damn, didn't someone say that hospital food had to be disgusting? Some sort of unspoken rule that it was all brown sludge? No, instead this just had to like mildly edible. He hated that. He wanted the food to look as bad as he felt. If it did, then he wouldn't feel so guilty about not being able to eat it. He would be able to use the excuse that it tasted horrid, because this stuff probably tasted just fine.
No, but he could never really eat after a panic attack.
Luca knew his apperance was less to be desirable at the moment, and that if his therapist -whom he had yet to really know that well- saw him, the therapist would instantly know that something was wrong. When he had checked the mirror as he ahd left the room when he went in to change his soiled clothing, he had noticed the fact that he had dark shadows under his eyes from the stress of the attack. His skin was paler than it usually was, a result of low blood sugar from the attack, and he could see that his hands still shook a bit.
He hated panic attacks. This one had been completely a surprise, too. Usually he would have some idea that a panic attack was possible, but instead he found himself in a compromising position when he was sitting in his normal spot, minding his own buisness. He had found a tree in the courtyard that if he leaned against the back sitting, he was hidden from the cameras and the guards only came back once and a while. It was a small spot that wasn't even near the fence, but instead near the side of the building. Either way, it offered him some sort of comfort knowing that he was alone. He had a spot where he could essentially box in and not be watched like everywhere else. He hated being watched. It reminded him of when he turned on the cameras as he touched Luca. Luca shuddered at the memory.
Anyways, the panic attack had been caused because some guard who was somewhat close to where Luca was had on a walkie-talkie attached to his belt, and when the message was coming in the small box had backfired and let out a loud beep. Normally, he could handle that without a full blown attack, but it had been at such an angle that it had echoed and became even louder, and the next thing he knew he was shaking and barely aware of what was going on.
Like all of his attacks, he never had any control over his body. Sometimes he would be shaking, like he lost control of his muscles, and would be aware of it all. Sometimes, like once in the therapists office, he had been half-aware, half-delirious with fear. He supposed the last attack was between the middle of the two. He had been left on the ground, an hour later, finally conscious enough to get up and get to his room, narrowly avoiding guards as he slid into his room and out of the clothes he had soiled in his delirious panic.
The therapist he had before he had been sent here had said that the fear of loud noises, like the fear of being touched, probably came from the time spent with him. However she had also said that Luca had probably some memory of the loud bang of the gun when his mother was shot when he was a baby, so adding it on to that it probably just triggered the deep fear that was hidden in his gut. Either way he hated it, either way he wished he could just accept a hug from someone, or get kissed by mr.perfect under a full moon (because, he decided, those were much more romantic than the setting sun). But no. It never worked that way.
He hadn't told anyone about the panic attack he had, either. If someone took enough attention, they would probably be able to read it on his face, but he didn't want to tell someone. Damnit, he just wanted to be able to get through them without any trouble. He wanted to be able to live a normal life without any problems or illnesses like he had. But no. His inner voice whispered at him You need help.
Luca Dragonais tightened his fist around the fork in his hand and stabbed it into the meat, ignoring the fact that his hand was still shaking with the after-shocks of the panic attack and the low blood sugar it usually brought. He stuffed it in his mouth, feeling mildly nauseous like he sometimes did after a particulairly stressful attack, and managed to swallow without upchucking the damn meat.
If someone comes and tries to touch me... He found himself thinking to himself ...I think I'll lose it.. He glanced down at the food, grimacing once at it. He really, really didn't want to eat it. It wasn't that he didn't like food, he did, but the panic attack made him nauseous and he found that he just wanted to go to his room and sleep.
Luca chewed on his lower lip and exhaled. No. He was not going to roll over because he had freaked out. Damn, he could overcome this. He could. He was strong, proud, and a wonderful gay teenager.
He glanced at his shaking hands an exhaled, picking up the fork he had dropped on the table. Well He thought to himself. It certainly can only get better from here.
Yeah, right.
TAG - sayOPEN?
WORDS - say1026?
NOTES - sayOUTFIT LATER?
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0
