The ringing is so loud, it's so loud, it's so loud. It's stuck in my head and it's piercing, pouring, screaming. I'm screaming. I can hardly feel myself breathe, but my heart is racing faster than it ever has before. My hands are covering my ears, I don't remember moving them. My legs are shaking and I want to run, I want to run but they're stuck. I can't move. The fear is paralyzing.

Somehow my mind registers that George is having to handle evacuation while staying calm through it all. The customers don't seem too panicked but keep looking near me with pity and a little fear. Or, maybe they're looking AT me...I probably look like a crazy person.

My brain seems to remember the panic attack my body is going through and now all I can see is fire, fire, fire. George still sounds calm and the customers are fine, I can just barely tell that my eyes are actually closed, and I believe if I opened them at this point I probably wouldn't even see a fire. Unfortunately my eyelids have decided to behave like my legs and stay exactly where they are.

You would think by this point in my life I would've been involved in a fire drill or something and yeah, I should've, but with my anxiety and phobia my parents and I made sure I wasn't put in situations like this on purpose. Now I wonder if that was such a good decision.

I feel a firm grip on my arm. "Chase....CHASE! Hey, man, I got the customers out but I think there may actually be a fire in the building behind us, we need to get out. Now."

I can hear George just fine, but apparently my ears really are the only body part on my side as I feel my head start to shake as the rest of my body trembles.

George tries again, "Chase, you're so tense I can't move you on my own. Please, try a deep breath and let's get out of here."

"You go!" I manage to choke out through my strangled throat.

"You know I'm not leaving here without you, man! I know what happened to your sister and I am NOT letting that happen to you."

My eyes seem to shut tighter at the mention of my sister, even though my mind has been reminding me of her constantly throughout this entire ordeal. But somehow, his words had the opposite effect on my legs as my eyes. I'm able to stumble a few steps as George continues holding my arm.

"Come on, come on, we can do this," he's mumbling continuously. From the number of steps we've taken I believe we're pretty close to the for at this point, and I couldn't be more grateful. And apparent, the ghostie, who I've been unaware of the past few minutes with my 'distraction,' also feels grateful and relieved. It's nice to think some people, and maybe something, still care about me as much as George and Ghostie too.

"Hey, Ghostie?" I ask in my mind, "thanks for caring"

The feeling turns calmer and somewhat adoring as George finally sweeps me into an ambulance. I hate hospitals, but I know with smoke inhalation and the panic attack I need to go in and get checked.

Inside the ambulance I feel like I can still hear that blasted fire alarm, but maybe it's just the siren. I hope it's just the siren and not me going crazy. Ghostie seems a little overwhelmed and possibly concerned, and I wish I knew a way to make it feel better. As I'm pondering this the ambulance finally pulls to the hospital.

When I wake up again in a hospital bed my mom is beside me and I can hear my dad speaking. He's asking the nurses, doctors, and anyone else he can see "what just happened?! Why isn't he awake?! Is my son okay?!!" Oddly enough, I find comfort in his panic because it means he cares a little bit. Every time he asks, though he gets some weird answer like they're "just running some tests." Tests for what? Is there something wrong with me?

As I think this I feel Ghostie get concerned. I have the weirdest urge to hug it, but how can you hug a feeling?

Shaking off the thoughts I finally open my eyes all the way and look at my mother. Her face changes at the sight of me from stressed to some fake happiness, "Chase! Thank goodness you're awake, you gave us a scare. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that again and that I wasn't there and Dad wasn't there you must've been so scared." "Mom," I grumble back at her, she has the habit of rambling when she's nervous. Every minute since I've woken up it seems more and more like something is wrong.

Did the fire get put out? Maybe not, so they're upset cause our building burnt down and I don't have a job? Maybe they're angry I wasn't prepared for this situation? Why was everyone so worried?!

At this point Ghostie is pretty stressed, and my emotions match it. I just want to get home and work off all this anxiety, but the thought of being alone also somehow makes that siren sound come back again.

What I really need to know is why I'm still in this hospital, and why no one has told me anything. Sure, passing out was probably just from stress coupled with dehydration and smoke inhalation, but they should've come and said that by now. I shouldn't need more tests. Nothing else could be wrong!

It almost feels like Ghostie is wincing, like I cursed myself saying nothing could be wrong. But I'm a teenage boy, I'm at the peak of my life! At the risk of sounding vain, I'm practically perfect physically! I mentally chuckle, that could've been amazing alliteration if 'physically' wasn't such a dumb word.

The siren sound has faded, gradually blending and melting into the beeping of the heart monitor. But it still doesn't really feel like everything is okay.

• • •
A/N ahh! School made this last while very crazy and I just didn't have the energy or motivation to write. I am sorry if anyone was really into this book! I have a full time job this summer, but I am hoping to make at least a little progress on some ideas. If you're reading this and want me to continue, make me feel obligated to! Tell me you're enjoying it and wanting more, cause I don't want this to just be for me. Have a lovely day/night/whatever it is wherever you are whenever you're reading this 💚