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some had begun to dither about whether
they should approach him or not. He then had the impounding fear
that he was going to be exposed, that someone was going to stroll
over ‘the hero’ and take his jumper and shirt off of him. Someone
would inadvertently reveal his secret. Reveal his wings.
    Gabe was then
more petrified about people trying to save his life for fear that
they would see his wings, than of dying! When of course they would
have all seen his wings anyway but at least then he would be
dead.
    Panicking
during a panic attack is just about the worst thing you can do.
Thinking back to the incident now, Gabe reddened and shook his head
at the thought of himself pathetically pleading, somehow through
his own blind terror, with the growing crowd not to approach, not
call an ambulance. Just on the small off chance that he might
live.
    The worst thing
about the whole incident was that Grace, the Grace that didn’t
usually notice that Gabe existed, had come up to him. She had told
him that everything was going to be OK. She told him to breath, to
stay calm. She had touched his arm, told him that it was just a
panic attack and that he’d be alright in a minute.
    He couldn’t
look at her, he had to just close his eyes and try to think, to
focus on staying alive. Focus on an inner light, on convincing his
lungs that it was OK to take in air again.
    Soon he was
breathing ‘sort of’ normally and he was embarrassed, mortified,
blushing as much out of shame as lack of air. It had passed,
everything back to normal like nothing had ever happened. But that
fear, that new depth of ‘facing death’ terror, that had
never left him.
    Sometimes; when
something happened now, like there were too many people in a room
encroaching on his personal space or if he was doing something that
knew he shouldn’t really be doing, which was happening now more so
than ever; Gabe felt it again instantly, usually only briefly but
almost as intensely as those first few breaths into that panic
attack. When everything stops still in suspended animation for a
few long lucid seconds and Gabe recognises that different, dry,
metallic, pungent taste in his mouth. That now familiar taste of
all-consuming fear.
    That day, Gabe
had learnt two things; one was the knowledge of a new depth and
dimension of terror and the other was that he now knew, without an
absolute shadow of a doubt, that he would rather die than let
anyone know his secret.
    And now after
two long and laborious years on top of the five he had already
spent at secondary school, it was all over. Only, like a caged
animal, Gabe was now familiar with his surroundings. And as the day
of freedom approached, Gabe was now thinking and beginning to
suspect and worry that perhaps he didn’t quite know how he would
survive out in the wild.
    Not that Gabe
thought of the school environment as his world, that zoo with the
other animals in it. But at least here he knew his place. He had
fallen into a role and character. It was not the best one, the
leading role, the jock or the girl magnet, it certainly was not a
role he would ever have chosen for himself but it was not the worst
one either. Gabe was ‘the kid with the hump’!
    There were
certain kids far worse off than Gabe in the school meat market, he
knew that. Hell he was best friends with some of them! Had been best friends with them Gabe reminded himself but now his life,
future and sanity would be better if he walked away from them
too.
     
     
     

Chapter 3
     
    From the pile
of clothes on the floor, Gabe pulled out the first jumper that came
to hand and put it on over his shirts, t-shirt, vest and the
swathes of bandages. He made a series of last checks to make sure
that everything was concealed completely and then he did the
finishing adjustments for pain; rearranging himself, trying to get
as comfortable as possible. Making sure that not too much of the
mottled red rash skin was appearing over the neck line. No visible
tell-tale blood