It came on like a freight train, hitting her full force without even giving her time to get to the bathroom. “No, shit no,” She whimpered from her place in her bed, curled up in the fetal position face down on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen. She hadn’t had a panic attack for years, she stopped taking her medication on a daily basis because she didn’t need it anymore, but she was glad now that she still had a few of those tiny pills for times like these. She still got it refilled regularly because she didn’t know if Lorazepam expired or not, and she didn’t want to take the chance. Not in case this might happen again one day. “Preston,” She whimpered out, hoping that even in his sleep, he would be able to hear her pleas. She needed him to get those stupid pills, there was no way she’d be able to get them herself.