I couldn’t see, or breathe, and my arms were paralyzed to my side. My chest constricted, like my lungs were getting smaller and letting in less air. I tried to scream, but no words came out. The searing pain behind my eyes made it difficult to open my eyelids. My temples pounded, but I managed to comprehend that I was in my room.

I initially thought some essential organ was shutting down for me to feel such pain and agony, but after I heard my short breaths and saw my hands  violently trembling, I knew what was happening.

I attempted sitting up to reach for my inhaler, but my chest weighed me down so much it hurt to budge. My heart and mind started racing beyond any semblance of control.

It took every ounce of energy I had to get up. But blood rushed to my head and caused me to crumple, my knees hitting the ground and my choked gasp echoing around the room. I tried to scream again. Nothing came out except for a terrified, strangled breath. 

I leaned my forehead against the wall. The pressure of not breathing pounded against my skull like a bass drum at a concert. The agonizing pain in my head made it feel like it was about to explode. No one knew this was happening. No one would be able to find me. This was how I was going to die. 

I glanced at the window, and my reflection stared back at me, the desperation clear in my face. But I also saw something else. A glint of hope in my eyes. That was all I needed to use whatever strength I had left to lift my arm, and pound on the door. Once. Twice. Thrice. But the excruciating pain was too much to endure. I dropped my arm and my body followed, my head hitting the cold wooden floor as the door opened. 

An inhaler was rushed to my face, and all my worries faded away as my mom pressed the button. My lungs greedily filled with air as I lifted my exhausted arms and took the inhaler into my hands, giving myself another puff. I survived. Yet tears spilled out of my eyes and I shook with sobs because I knew it would happen again. My body was a prisoner to my asthma attacks.