illest

I told you guys.

London felt as if the whole world had just been dropped onto her. Her stomach dropped 20 feet and her throat was so dry she couldn't even let out a whisper. Wrinkles in her forehead appeared as a mixture of confusion, excitement, and sadness was displayed across her face. Her lips quivered as she opened her mouth, unsure of how to react. She pulled away softly from his hand, using it to push herself up in her bed. Finally gaining the courage, she spoke up. "A child....you have a ch-child? You have an eight year old son...who's alive somewhere...right now. Who's never known his father, and now doesn't have a mother?" London realized she was just asking questions that had already been answered. This boy was David's. He was his living blood; a part if him whether he liked it or not. London lay back in the bed, feeling lightheaded from the news. What if they did choose to take in the kid? She would become the outsider, the distant one. She wouldn't be the mom. Her entire life's dream had been based around the perfect family, and now that reality had smacked her in the face, her entire world was thrown off balance. All she ever wanted: gone. But this was a little eight year old boy, with no power to decide for himself. He didn't get to choose wheat happened to him. He just had to go along with it. His mom was a drug addict for christ sake. He had never even gotten to see his father, ever. London felt her heart breaking into millions of little pieces at the realisation that this could be the end. She blinked violently, pushing back the tears. Her head spun and her vision blurred. The tears she had tried so desperately to hold back trickled down her cheeks, her eyes stinging. She turned her face up to David with an expression of pure heartbreak, and back to the wall in front of her. It wasn't until then that she realized. David was talking. David was talking, and she couldn't hear a thing. Her head pounded and her heart beat faster, frightened and confused. She couldn't even feel herself breathing, but from the movement of her chest it was evident she was hyperventilating. Throwing off the blanket as if it would do any good, it felt as if a brick wall had been shoved onto her chest, making it difficult to breathe. By incredible force, London managed to get out two words. She whispered through her hysterics. "P-panic a-a-attack."

A panic attack. The most frighting time for anyone, when everything slaps them in the face, and overwhelms one. It was the worst thing anyone could ever feel, and poor London was going through it. He'd never really dealt with a panic attack before, so London was freaking him out. "I-I-I okay, London look at me. Calm down. Just breathe slower, think of happy things. Think of me, our future. C'mon London-" he had an idea. He watched a show where someone kissed the other person to help hold their breath, so he figured he'd give it a shot. He cupped London's face in his hands and brought her lips to his face. He placed his lips onto her soft, supple ones, and kissed her passionately.