Jemilla is a perfectionist, and has been her whole life. Everything she does has to be done well, and quickly. This little quirk of hers has caused chaos among her life, as she spends most of her days pushing people away over small things. She is controlling, and she knows that. One of the only things she knows she can’t control is Zazzalil.
Zazzalil is like her fire. She keeps her on her feet when things become too hard, she gets her out of her head when her thoughts are too overwhelming. She keeps her warm and safe at night. She has so much energy, so much light in her eyes, Jemilla wishes she could give the same.
Sometimes she finds herself laying awake at night, Zazzalil tossing and turning beside her. Jemilla vowed to stay awake when this happened, in case she woke in a panic. It’s only happened a few times, Zazzalil often calms down while asleep. She always looks so peaceful, her tiny snores make Jemilla smile.
One day, after a particularly rough day at work, Jemilla didn’t sleep (to her knowledge anyway). Zazzalil was sleeping still, no signs of distress. But she knew she wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, so she slowly pulls out of Zaz’s embrace, getting out of bed.
She pulls on a pair of black leggings and matching sports bra, a light pink singlet over the top. Running is one of the other things she can control. Where she goes, how fast she is. She started running at a young age, but it’s been a little since she’s properly gone a long distance, especially since the one treadmill in the apartment gym went out of order.
Tying up her shoes, she thinks about what she’s about to do. Perhaps four in the morning isn’t the best time, but the streetlights are still on, and it’s a pretty policed area. It’s not terribly cold out for the middle of the night, so she figures it’s a good time to go.
To: Zazzy <3
[Jemilla]: I’m going out. I’ll be back before breakfast at the latest.
She sends the text, and off she goes, down the steps and running onto the streets.
The further she goes, the harder it is to breathe. Her body doesn’t hurt yet, she’s just got less stamina than she used to. She checked her watch, only to be disappointed by the number flashing at her.
“Less than three miles?” She groans to herself. “Let’s try for four.”
Try she does, and she does get there, but it doesn’t feel like enough. She can no longer run any further, as much as she would like too. Her throat burns with every intake of oxygen. She has found herself in a park, and she sits down on a wooden bench.
She hunches over to catch her breath, so maybe she can go further. She checks the time, and it’s only been about half an hour. Zazzalil should still be sleeping. She is seated for another five minutes, her chest still tighter than the sports bra she’s wearing. What is wrong with me? She asks herself, balling her hands into fists.
Turns out being unable to breathe was just the tip of the iceberg. She really should’ve eaten at least a muesli bar before she left. Her hands shake violently, her head starts spinning. Before she knows it, she’s having a panic attack. Her thoughts pile up higher in her head, threatening to come tumbling down, and then it’ll really be noticeable.
Having a panic attack in public at four-fifty-three in the morning isn’t ideal, and she wasn’t about to wake Zazzalil up. Selfishly, a part of her wants to call her. The other half tells her no.
So there she is, waiting for time to pass her by so she can finally get up and run home. Her brain doesn’t seem to be giving her a break.
You’re so weak.
You’re nothing.
You can’t do this.
She keeps her head in her hands, even when she hears engines revving, and frantic footsteps. She keeps her head down when she hears yelling. She only snaps her head up when she can hear that it’s Zazzalil’s voice.
“Jemilla?” Her voice breaks through barriers. “What are you doing out here? I’ve been driving for twenty minutes trying to find you! You’re four miles away!”
“I know, it’s pathetic. I used to be able to go so much further.” Jemilla mumbles, flinching away from Zazzalil’s touch.
I’m gonna be sick.
“Pathetic? I can’t even run down the street.” Zazzalil takes a seat next to her.
“You’re so strong though.”
“I might be strong, but I have no stamina, compared to you.” She sighs. “Why are you out here? I was so worried about you! I woke up, and th-there was no-one there, and-”
“Wait, Zazzalil, did you have another nightmare?” Jemilla looks up into her eyes, horrified.
“I...I-”
“Fucking hell! I’m so stupid,” Jemilla buries her head into Zazzalil’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, it must have been awful,”
“You’re not having a great night either.” She states. “You’ve been off since you got home yesterday, what’s the matter?”
“I just… I can’t do anything right!” Jemilla cries harder. “I’m not getting better at this stupid shit.”
“Yes you are! Remember two weeks ago? When I went away?” Zazzalil snatches Jemilla’s fidgeting hands. “You didn’t tear the apartment to shreds, or clean it until there was no dust in site! Or do anything irrational!”
“I guess.” Jemilla laughs. “I was being selfish, though. I didn’t even think about you.”
“It’s not your fault. I just wanna be here for you.”
Jemilla smiles, the air around her getting cooler again. “You didn’t happen to bring a jumper, did you?”
“Just for you, babe.” Zazzalil unties a second jumper from around her waist and pulls it over Jemilla’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home. Do you wanna stop a 7-11 and get some ice cream, watch some movies, and then sleep the rest of the day?”
“Sounds like a plan.”