(This post is part of the weekly creative writing challenge on Trifecta. The prompt was “Wild”. This is my first time participating in Trifecta, and this is what came from that prompt. I’ve written about my depression before, but I’ve never talked about this aspect of it. I don’t know if this is too much, but this is what I wrote.)

I was attacked by a wild animal.

 

Sharp claws; bright red blood on pale skin.                                                         

Left for dead.

It’s fangs pierced me, poisoned my mind.

I started to see things that weren’t there, believe things that weren’t true.

I was helpless, hopeless, alone.

 

Cold floor, hot skin, shaking hands.

My mind is racing, racing, racing.

My skin is crawling. I can’t slow down.

I can’t breathe.

The walls shake and shimmer, leave me questioning my sanity.

I’m losing my grip on reality.

Heart flutters, breath catches, I’m trapped in this body.

I can’t escape.

I’m not here. This isn’t real. This can’t be life.

I float away. I’ll be lost soon.

Flashing, spinning, dizzy, angry, scared, numb, alone.

I have to make it stop.

 

I crawl to the drawer, bare knees on white tile, slipping slowly sliding.

Run my hands along the edge, find the hidden packet. Finger tips on soft cloth.

Slowly, carefully, I unfold it. Sharp metal. My old friend.

I’ll be at peace soon.

 

Skin parts like butter. Lip stain on porcelain.

Breath comes. Eyes close. Heart slows.

Back in my body. Back in reality.

But for how long?

 

The scars are faded now. Pearly white. Some not as white as others.

And the animal is caged now. Held down. I see it’s eyes glint in the dark sometimes, and I feel the old panic start to rise.

It’s crouched low, ready to spring. If I open that door for just one second, I’m lost.

I stare it down. Tell it, and myself, that I’m in control now.

But it’s there. Always there. It knows and I know.

 

I was attacked by a wild animal.