Panic!

I was 4 foot above the ground and I knew I was going to die. A window cleaner who’s afraid of heights, what a chump. I wouldn’t move though, couldn’t move. I was hanging onto that ladder like a limpet. My knuckles were white and my cheeks glowed red as the fire crew tried to talk me down.

That was the first one, the first panic attack. Even worse, it was the first time I heard that voice. Cool and calm he told me to get out of my head, let him take care of everything. After that I don’t remember anything, not a damn thing. Not until I woke up in bed with two cracked ribs. Don’t have a clue whose bed it was, I do know the woman lying next to me sure as hell wasn’t the wife.

After that the panic attacks kept coming. For a while they hit just occasionally, soon it was most weeks. Whenever they struck that soothing voice would always be there, whispering in my ear, offering a way out. In my weakness I’d succumb. Then I’d blackout, it could be for hours, could be for days.

I realise I can hear a voice, it sounds like me but it can’t be me. I wonder how long it’s been talking. I open my eyes and there’s a woman. She’s looking at me strangely. What is that look? I realise she looks afraid.

“I’ve been talking to this nice lady” says that voice in my head.

“She’s a therapist. I’ve been telling her about the terrible things we’ve done. Right now she’s wondering how she can get away from you to call the police. ”

I grip the sides of the couch, panic rising from my stomach.

“Stop worrying and let me handle it”