Rebuild

Chapter 2

None other than Isha Blaaker as Professor Jace Lincoln

Cam

"Run! Run! RUN!!!"

Lungs burning...need to breathe...need to stop...don't look back!

"YES!"

Cheering erupts...I'm almost tackled to the ground...tears of joy, exhaustion, pain, and pride are running down my cheeks as I find out my 1 mile time...warmth spreading through me as loving arms wrap around my sweaty, shaking body. "We love you Cameron, we're so proud of you!" Breathing heavily, I respond, "I couldn't have done it without you, and your support Mom!"

I start stirring awake, stuck in that twilight state where I'm half awake and half asleep. I feel this huge smile splitting across my face. I just won the 1 mile championship, by far beating my fastest time at 4:23. "Finally dragging myself out of bed at 4:30AM every day to run has paid off. Seeing my dad so proud and happy, and my mom with tears of joy running down her cheeks was a feeling I would never be able to beat...except maybe when I come out of the closet and they accept and love me for who I really am," I think to myself, while sleepily rubbing my eyes and squinting at the harsh light surrounding me. "Yeah right..."

"Crap, my back..." I thought as I stretched and took in my surroundings. "Wait...," I pondered confusedly. "I'm in a library?"

Then everything came rushing back.

"Cameron Lincoln is a homosexual!"

Tears spring to my eyes.

"Mom, don't let him do this!"

My breaths hitch in my throat.

"Get out! You're no longer welcome under my roof!"

My heart is pounding, splintering my ribs that are being snapped in half.

"I'm not home in Montana. I'm not in high school. My parents aren't proud," I reminded myself, silent tears running down my face.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I breathe heavily clutching my chest. "Not again. I can't afford another panic attack," I hyperventilate, grasping at the zipper on my backpack, tearing it open and opening the bottle of pills so forcefully that most of them scatter over the wooden table, the sound echoing through the empty library.

I jam 200mg of Vistaril down my throat and swallow.

"Slow breaths, Cam," "You'll be out of commission for two days if you allow yourself to have another panic attack," I reminded myself, slowly breathing in, for the first time realizing I had tears continuously streaming down my face. I roughly rub the palms of my hands over my face and rub my eyes. "You're okay," I chant in a whisper. "You're okay."

***

As my heart rate starts to slow, I have a ghost of a smile on my face. I've only been able to stop two panic attacks in their tracks before becoming a complete and total debilitated mess. I look down at my wrist and sigh. "1:15 AM...fuck," I mutter, closing my eyes and yawning. Then my eyes spring open with a start. "Kya!

I pull out my phone and dial the number of the only person I could think of who would be a) awake and b) willing to help.

"Come on, come on, come on! Pick up, pick up!" I repeat, looking at my watch every few seconds. "Kya's been home all alone all day and night. She's never been alone for more than six hours, and I'm not even close to being finished Mr. Full-of-himself's paper on fucking ossification of all things," I think to myself.