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"Owen!" I yell, taking a step closer to him.

He stumbles backwards, covering his cheek. He takes a second to recover, but then, he hits back. Tyler flinches but doesn't bother caring for his new bruise. Instead, he leaps forward, tackling Owen to the ground.

I jump away from them, bumping into someone in the crowd.

"Hey, watch it!" the girl scolds, but when she sees what's going on on the floor, her anger fades. "Holy shit! Is that Thompson and Benali?"

The boys roll over the floor, fighting for dominance. Tyler lands on top. He takes a hit, but Owen lifts his knee, hitting Tyler in his groin.

"Stop it!" I call, but they don't listen. Owen throws a punch against Tyler's face. He turns to the side, allowing him to get another one in. But Tyler doesn't wait any longer. He takes hold of Owens' arm, tugging him down again.

"You son of a birch!" Tyler calls, grabbing Owen by his collar.

"Fuck you!" Owen responds, reaching for Tyler's throat.

A crowd has begun to form around them. Mark tried to interfere, but he received an elbow to the face. People call out to them, some encouraging, and others trying to get them to stop. My heart is racing. They're going to kill each other.

"Stop!" I yell, my voice breaking.

Tyler hits Owen once more, causing blood to shoot out of his nose. I look away, trying to stop the nausea, but they still don't stop.

My body begins to shake, bile rising in my throat. I can just tell this is going to end badly. I can feel it in my stomach.

"You need to stop!" I take a step towards them, leaning down to interfere. But just as I do, Tyler lifts his fist up, causing his elbow to slam into my stomach.

The wind is knocked out of me. I stumble backwards, losing focus for a few seconds. I clutch my stomach, feeling the world spin.

"Shit!" Tyler calls, jumping to his feet.

"What the duck happened?" Owen asks.

"I'm so fucking sorry!" Tyler marches my way. He throws his arm over my shoulder, but I push him away.

The whole room is watching me, and I.... I need to vomit.

I run out of the room, pushing people aside to make it to the bathroom. I shove the door, run into the first stall that's free, and spew out all the chicken nuggets I just ate.

I cling onto the toilet seat, collapsing onto the floor. The tiles are cold on my bare legs, but my body is boiling. I'm sweating like crazy, the tears in my eyes are blurring my vision, and my mouth tastes like stomach acid and alcohol.

I feel like complete shit.

"Sarah?" I hear Owen call, banging on the door.

"Just go in there!" Tyler grumbles.

"It's the fucking girl's room, bro! I can't just barge in!"

"Someone has to!"

"Then why the fuck don't you?"

"Because she fucking hates me! You do it!"

"Sarah!" Owen repeats. "I'm coming in!"

"No!" I yell.

"No? Are you okay?"

"I need... I need time."

I take a deep breath, checking to see if there's anything else that wants to come out of my body. When nothing does, I push my hand against my stomach. It's sore where Tyler hit me. It's definitely going to turn into a bruise.

I get back onto my feet and flush the toilet. I'm still nauseous but it's nowhere near as bad as it was before. My whole body is tense though. My heart is beating a mile a minute, and my jaw is clenched so tight, it's beginning to hurt.

I walk out of the stall, checking to see if anyone saw me throw up. Thankfully, there's no one in here. I cup my hands beneath the tap, using them to drink up some water. I wish I had mints. The gross taste will not leave my mouth.

I look like a total wreck. My eyes are red, and my eyeliner is smudged out. One of my fake eyelashes is crooked, too. There are tear tracks over my foundation, and my lipstick is basically done.

I grab some products out of my purse, trying to fix myself up, but it's no use. My hands are shaking so bad, it's no use.

I feel so pathetic, I don't even want to be here anymore. I don't care about my stupid makeup.

"Sarah?" Owen calls. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I respond.

I pull my eyelashes off, abandoning them on the countertop. I splash the tap water over my face, using paper towels to take my makeup off. I try to be gentle, but I'm so desperate to take it off. I can't go out looking like this. I just want to go home. Not to the apartment, but to my mum and dad. Or Quinn.

I just... need to leave. I need to get out.

I pull the bathroom door open, but my body slams into Owens as I try to run out.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Did you get sick?"

"I need to get out!" I cry. "I need to leave."

He grabs onto my arms, focusing his eyes on me, but I can't look at him. My eyes are flying all over the place, frantically looking for a way out.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"I need to leave!" I try to wrestle my way out of his grasp, but he's too strong.

"Let her go," Tyler contributes. "She's panicking."

Owen takes a step away from me, letting me go. I barge through the bar, working through the crowd of people. As soon as I make it outside, I take a deep breath, inhaling the cool air. But it's not enough to stop my panic attack.

I need to stop. I need to stop this. I need to stop.

I pace back and forth, repeating the words over and over again. I crouch down beside a tree, holding on to its trunk. I try to regulate my breathing once more, but it's no use.

I can't breathe. I can't do anything.

My leg. My leg hurts. It's my thigh.

I fall down on my butt, stretching my leg out over the pavement. I lift up my dress, grabbing hold of my thigh.

It's still there, Sarah. I can feel it burning and ai can feel the glass digging into my skin. I can feel it. It burns. It burns so bad.

I rock back and forth, squeezing my leg as tight as I can.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts," I mumble. "It hurts, it hurt, it hurts, it hurts."

I let out a loud wail, continuing the string of words in my mind. A lump forms in my throat, causing me to choke. I gasp for air.

I need to stop this. I need to stop this. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

Think about mum and dad. Think about mum and dad. Think about mum and dad.

Quinn.

Think about Quinn.

What does Sam do when he gets anxious? He repeats types of penguins over and over again. What do I like? Music.

The National, Volcano Choir, The Shins, Bon Iver. The National, Volcano Choir, The Shins, Bon Iver. The National, Volcano Choir, The Shins, Bon Iver. The National, Volcano Choir, The Shins, Bon Iver.

Alphabetical order.

Bon Iver, The National, The Shins, Volcano Choir. Bon Iver, The National, The Shins, Volcano Choir. Bon Iver, The National, The Shins, Volcano Choir. Bon Iver, The National, The Shins, Volcano Choir.

My breathing begins to slow, but I know what will help even more.

Piano.

I play the chords to Breezeblocks over my legs, using them as my keyboard. I shut my eyes, focusing on the song. The lyrics play out in my head.

By the time I reach the end of the song, my hands have stopped shaking and my breathing has calmed. My heart is still thumping a little, but I feel much better.

I climb back onto my feet, dusting off my dress. A weight has been lifted off my dress, and I feel perfectly calm.

I look around to check if anyone saw me. There are a few people sitting outside at the bar but they probably just think I'm drunk. The only ones I'm worried about are Owen and Tyler. They're standing a few feet away from me, both with a mixture of confusion and concern on their faces.

"Could you maybe drive me home, Owen?" I ask. "I think I should go to bed."

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he nods, a frown on his face. "Are you alright?"

"I will be."

I walk towards him, heading in the direction of the car. To my knowledge, he's only had one alcoholic drink tonight, so he should be good to drive.

"What the fuck was that?" Tyler grumbles, scowling down at me.

"What do you mean?" I question.

"What the fuck was that?!" he repeats. "A panic attack? A nervous breakdown? Some kind of other mental fuckery?"

I shrug. "All of the above."

"And you're just gonna walk away?"

"Yes," I nod. "I need to go home."

"You're out of your fucking mind," he snickers.

I scoff. "Clearly."

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