I bargained for those two seconds of nothingness.

That was it.

Those two seconds which slowed the world to a halt. Allowing my thoughts to sink. Allowing me to breathe.

And then...peace.

The blissful, steady feeling enveloped me, whispering, Everything will be fine.

And within the midst of the pleasant aura, everything ought to be fine.

The lies, the secrets, the hiding— Everything built up to this moment.

The serenity began to fade as I anticipated, replacing the crinkles beneath my eyes from smiling with tears—tears from the fear of reality creeping back in. The fluttering in my chest morphed into a heavy weight. My heart rate climbed out from the placidity's depths. The rhythm of my breathing followed, only to be restrained by the tightness in my chest.

Panic picked up like an ever-growing tornado— Not because I was landing in reality—I was crashing. A hand to my chest, I drift about the room. My head swirls with the whirling walls. Ringing fills my ears, blackness pushes into my vision. Each breath is a battle that ends in a collision.

The ringing piercing the darkness picks up the beat of a heart monitor. Each beep chirps, Wake...up...

My eyes crack open, being greeted by whiteness and a heavy head as reality plops its truth inside of it. I sink into the bedding, the heart monitor reflecting my panic.

I made another mistake.

I want to escape.

I need those two seconds.

And everything will be okay.

Being one with the machines around me poses a dangerous mission to find those two seconds—nothing new.

But before my lethargic brain could churn out the slightest idea, a familiar person steps in: My brother, the man who dragged me from my happy place and forced me to face my fears. I would've gladly aimed fury at him, but I restrain: The irritated look he usually wears is replaced by consternation, as if I pushed him to face his worst fears.

Then, like a waterfall, he spills all: How he found me at death's doorstep, discovered what landed me in the hospital. Through tears, he admits, "I thought you did it on purpose."

His words thrust me into a new perspective: All I wanted was two seconds of nothingness, not an eternity. But even when I thought everything was going to be okay, that was not true: I threw myself at death's feet and my brother paid a variant of the price.

The fretting for those two seconds subsided to remorse: I was hurting myself, I was hurting others that don't deserve to get hurt.

"I'm...so sorry you had to see me like that," I push through my parched throat. "But thanks for looking out for me."

My brother throws his arms around me. "I'm just glad you're alive."

In his embrace, I feel peace—but a stronger sense of peace: Assurance. Hope. Everything will truly be okay, and it won't last for only two seconds.