"count. slowly."

i breathe in. a long deep breath, and i hope the air in which i am sucking in through my throat and nose will not wind up fanning the fire which has been burning for weeks on end inside my stomach. right now is when i start counting. count to ten, that's what i've been told. "when you're upset, take a deep breath and count to ten."

one.

the first number, the first step to self proclaimed happiness, and yet the only sensation that number evokes is one of hopelessness and lack of self worth. i take another deep breath, i fill my stomach with air, with nothing.

two.

my cheeks continue to burn, the embers blowing onto my chest, glowing red hot against my flushed complexion. the number two imprints itself onto the back of my memory. i don't feel any better, but if i might be so daft as to look on the bright side, i could see i have eight more consoling numbers to trudge through.

three.

my fingers curl into themselves, my knuckles crack. my finger nails create quarter moon shaped imprints on the palm of my wrinkled hands. i can no longer continue just one steady breathing pattern. in slow, out slow. it's now converted itself into frantic and sparatic nonsense. in, out, out, in, out, in, in.

four.

my knees have disappeared.

five.

i'm half way there, i'm still not feeling any better. "oh just count to ten, breathe. count to ten." though admittedly, my effort is futile. what is this therapy worth if i already have the preconceived notion that its worthless to begin with?

six.

my skin tingles, the blood raging below, my hands restraining themselves from reaching before me, from slapping the beautiful look right off of his face. from reaching forward and tarnishing his angelic complexion with blood from his nose. fist, nose. the results of the impact.

seven.

he smirks. he thinks he's won.

eight.

i smirk back, my stomach drops. my self restraint continues to fail, little by little.

nine.

the bone collapses under my balled fist. his eyes pinch shut as his body folds into itself. his hands cup his bleeding nose, iron red seeping through the cracks of his fingers. a small agonizing moan escaping the lips he has misused against mine. my stomach is light again, my smile is genuine.

ten.

i turn my back, and begin placing my feet before one another. i've erased him from memory. worthless piece of shit.