Chapter 20
Stella
A fter we all got settled in at the camping site a week after that night, the girls and I went to see the sun set at their favorite spot to watch the sunset. And, wow, I’m speechless.
The sky is bursting with life, with colors. It’s art.
“Wow. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Layla murmurs.
“That’s because you’re always in your head,” Hazel replies with a grin.
I turn my head in her direction, unable to keep the grin off my face.
“Yeah, you got me there, Hazel. But at least my eyes aren’t glued to every plant and flower anywhere I go,” Layla replies, a small smile in her voice.
Hazel scoffs. “I don’t look at every flower and plant—”
“Yes, you do,” Layla insists
I tune out their bickering as I look up to the sky.
From this angle on the mountain, we can clearly see the pale pink starting to set in.
The sun is setting, and another day has passed.
I can’t help the slow smile spreading on my face. No matter how gray or hard our day was, there will always be color blooming back. Just like gray skies always return to blue and colors shift as the sun rises and sets.
I think our lives are similar in a way. Some moments are gray, but, no matter how long it takes, color always comes back into our lives.
Has my life been gray all along?
My smile fades.
I’d always thought my life was full of color.
It was exciting, so full of fame and success.
But sitting here, with these women, my life’s never felt more colorful.
I can still remember the days when I was filled with joy to train and be surrounded with other people with powers, but those days felt out of reach, almost as if they were never fully real.
I sigh internally. I’ve spent too many years sitting in a comfortable life.
I’d gotten used to the gray. I had a wonderful friend who supported my career in every way, success, and a supportive family, but what did it all bring me if going to work always felt like going through the motions and never something I was excited for?
“Oof. Stella’s deep in thought, isn’t she?” Layla says from behind me, her voice dragging me out of my thoughts.
I sigh heavily. “Yeah. How do you make it stop?”
Layla laughs. “Girl, you can’t. I’ve been asking myself that since I was seven. If your brain overthinks, you’re stuck overthinking with it.”
“Maybe,” Hazel says, “but you can still do things to bring yourself out of it. Taking a walk. Journaling. Talking it out. You can’t stop it , but you can stop the thoughts from running in circles.”
“Wow. That’s deep, Hazel,” Layla comments with a small laugh.
“Well, there are also times where you need to keep those thoughts in your head. Keep some things to yourself,” Isa murmurs, looking back into the horizon.
“Maybe.” Hazel’s voice is so full of compassion that I’m overwhelmed. “There are some things you keep to yourself, but talking it out with people lessens the weight of those thoughts. You don’t have to share everything, but you don’t have to keep every hard truth to yourself either.”
We all stay silent after that. I watch the colors change across the sky. Gentle orange. Pastel pink. Vibrant red. Deep blue.
Silence.
The night is slowly starting to settle in.
Silence.
Why are they so quiet?
I usually find the silence restorative. My life used to be so full of noise. Cameras, screams, magic, interviews, cheers . . . Silence meant a break; it meant I was alone. That I could finally breathe.
Except right now breathing seems like an impossible task. My heart starts racing, pounding heavily. My hands start trembling, and I’m thrown back into my old life.
Putting on a show.
Having everyone’s eyes on me.
Interview after interview, question after question, no one knowing who I truly am.
In those situations, I could turn my nerves into excitement, because that’s what I always loved—putting on a show and making everyone forget about their problems for a while.
But this is different. I’m not here to put on a show. Those people deserve an authentic trip with authentic people. But I was a bad friend in the past, what makes me think I would be a good friend now?
My blood pounds in my ears, and my heartbeat is the only thing I hear.
Why are my hands shaking?
It’s no big deal.
No big deal
No. Big. Deal.
But they are a big deal. The people I consider my friends now deserve people who will stick around. Who know how to balance life. Who know how to make time for them, prioritize them as they deserve to be.
Not someone whose life is all about work and can barely make time to see her family. Not someone who only has time for them now because her life fell apart. They deserve better than someone who only sticks around because she’s having a hard time.
I am a bad friend.
My feet tingle and, suddenly, my vision disfigures.
I need to get away.
I get up and turn around, blurting, “I’m going back to the cabin!”
Did my voice always sound so scratchy? I can’t hear any of their replies over my heavy breathing.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Fucking breathe!
I take a deep breath, then run away from the path leading to our cabin.
Away, away, away.
There. They won’t follow me. I’m ruining their vacations anyway.
I ruin everything.
I’m out of sight. That’s all that matters. Yet a tear slides down my cheek.
Why the fuck am I crying? This is nothing!
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to calm down.
Calm down, calm down, calm down. I need to calm down!
I wince. My arms are wrapped so tightly around my waist that my nails dig into them. Breathing is hard. Really hard.
Tears escape so fast and hard that I can’t stop them.
I’m powerless. Again.
In more ways than one.
Shame, guilt and a cocktail of emotions I never imagined I could feel all at once wrap themselves around me so tightly I feel choked. I cry harder, my chest growing tight as bile rises in my throat.
I’m dying. I’m having a heart attack and I’m dying.
My legs fall out, and I crumble to the floor.
Even with my rapid breathing, I can’t seem to get enough oxygen into my lungs. I can’t hear anything over my racing heart. For all I know, there could be a tornado next to me.
Calm down. I need to calm down.
I try to take in bigger inhales, but they’re cut short every time.
Am I dying? I can’t die.
“Shit. Stella!” a familiar voice calls from behind me, but I can’t recognize it for the life of me.
It’s when I see her blonde hair and worried green eyes that I recognize her. Hazel.
Her warm hands cradle mine. “Name five things you can see.”
What? How does she want me to name things I can see? I can’t even breathe!
“I see you and trees and a pale blue sky. What do you see?” Her gentle voice rings in my ears with the rapid beat of my heart.
I’m dying.
“Umm,” I gasp heavily as my eyes search my surroundings. “You. The sun.” I try to take in a deep breath and fail again. “Umm, trees and dirt and rocks,” I rush out.
“Great. You’re doing great, Stella. What are four things you can touch?”
What the hell is she asking me to do? Just name things?
My rapid heart rate can’t calm down!
I can’t breathe!
“Stella. What are four things you can touch?” she presses on.
“Umm, your hands, the ground, a tree and its roots,” I rush out again to try to breathe.
“Great.” She holds my hand tighter. “Now name three things you can hear.”
I try to take a deep breath, but it’s cut short. Again.
“Umm. Y-your voice. My heartbeat.” I try my best to hear anything else over my racing heart.
My heavy breathing fills the silence. I fight with everything I have to hear the outside world.
A rush of water fills my ears, but it sounds so far away.
That doesn’t matter. All that matters is I hear something over my breathing.
I look back at Hazel, who has a small smile on her lips. It’s then I realize my heartbeat is calming down.
This is getting better. You can fix it.
“And . . . the water’s current.”
“Awesome. You’re almost there, Stella.” Her thumb brushes over my hand.
This time, when I take a deep breath, it flows easier. Still difficult, but better.
Better. Better. This is getting better.
“Name two things you can smell.”
Breathing again, I try to focus on the smell.
I can’t sense anything.
My heartbeat keeps breathing hard against my chest. “Umm.”
“Two things you can smell, Stella. Just two,” she encourages.
I inhale again and recognize the smell of the dirt we’re sitting on along with . . . trees?
Yes, trees and dirt. That’s two.
“Trees and dirt,” I say without rushing.
I take a breath again, and it gets stuck in my throat at the end.
I can breathe, I can breathe, I can breathe.
“You’re almost there, Stella. One thing you can taste. Just one.”
Blood. It feels like I swallowed sand, and I can’t taste anything other than blood.
“Blood,” I reply, and my heartbeat is steady again. It’s still faster than usual, but calmer than a few seconds ago. Or I guess minutes ago?
What if hours went by?
“There you go,” Hazel says, a proud grin on her face.
Gratitude overwhelming me, I throw my arms around her and wrap her in a tight hug. She grips me back just as tightly.
Silence wraps us both, until I break it to ask, “How did you know what to do?”
“It’s not hard to tell when someone is having a panic attack when you’ve been having them since you were five.” She sighs heavily, and I wrap my arms around her tighter.
“Things eventually got really, really bad. I couldn’t go through a day without having a panic attack, which left me drained all the time.
I went to a healer in town to help me. He gave me different tips to get through panic attacks.
This one basically helps to ground yourself and drag your head out of your thoughts and back into the moment.
It’s not easy to do alone, but with someone guiding you, it’s a bit easier. ”
“So you managed to do it on your own? Every time?”