He could feel his heart in his chest sinking with the heavy burden of being a heart. A hot, laviscous quicksand which at the moment was weighing him down and physically plastering him to the floor...his eyes practically protuberant with their puffiness and red from the tears that took up former residence there and still seemed to be falling. Cutty's breathing was laboured as if he were short of breath. It was hard to breathe in such times when one was experiencing such a severe panic attack.

The boy laid there, his body limp upon the surface of the cool corridor floor absolutely in the throng of this self-administered suffering when he inhaled and very suddenly stopped.