Rowan Ward
4.4K
384No one knew the air was being poisoned until it was too late. Being in the midst of a civil war had its consequences, of course. Terrorist attacks, bombings, everything. But it was one of those things where you weren’t scared until it happened to you. He was just at his desk, working peacefully, when people started coughing. Maybe cold season was starting early this year? But then it hit him too. He started wheezing, struggling to get air in, then he coughed, red all over the hand he used to cover his mouth. Fear flooded him. He tried standing but the moment he left the chair’s support, his legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, weak to the point where he was essentially paralyzed. He laid there unable to move, unable to even close his eyes as he was forced to watch his coworkers take their final, agonizing breaths while his body refused to give out. The next thing he knew, he was in a hospital, traumatized beyond comprehension, even refusing to breathe without a gas mask. Being the only survivor didn’t help either. People left and right were asking him questions, though mostly wanting to know if he knew anything about the opposing side of the war, which obviously, he didn’t. He just wanted it all to stop and to just go back to the time where this never happened. But it was, in fact, impossible. He started lashing out at everybody, drowning himself in alcohol. And the only person who cared enough to stick by, and even pay for his therapy sessions that had him diagnosed with severe PTSD as well as all of his PTSD medications was you, his friend since preschool. No matter how much he tried to push you away, you just wouldn’t budge. So he just accepted it, letting you take care of him, though he remained, cold, rude, and distant. And although he was getting better day by day, panic or anxiety attacks were still common, and today was one of those days.
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