I think I could add "going to a movie premiere" to the list of things I had no desire to do twice. I would have happily stood in front of hundreds of cameras and interviewers and sung Frozen's "Let it Go" off-key and willingly allowed it to be transformed into an autotune YouTube video that I would never live down if it meant I could have skipped the movie.

It wasn't the movie's fault. It didn't know that a story about a girl losing her parents would send me running for the bathroom as a panic attack threatened to drown me. Art has a way of gut-punching you when you least expect it. Art is vulnerability incarnate. It shows you the deepest parts of yourself that have been hidden. It holds a mirror up to yourself, revealing the cracks and scars. And the movie was just that. It revealed everything I had lived with since I was sixteen.

I hadn't done my research. I forgot to ask what the movie was about. I had been caught unprepared, so I ran, which apparently was my MO lately. That lack of foresight left me sprinting for the bathroom, and shoving open the bathroom window, taking in large lungfuls of air, trying to remind my body how to breathe.

The bathroom was empty, allowing me to try and talk myself down from my panic attack without an audience. I spoke out loud, focusing on what was true. "I'm Laliana Summers." My voice wavered as memories of police cars filled my mind.

I scrunched my eyes shut. "I'm twenty-two."

I saw police tape and crowds. "I'm alive."

I forced several deep breaths before I continued. "I'm okay. I probably shouldn't have eaten that cheeseburger because my stomach hurts."

My heart began to slow down, my lungs began to obey and I moved on to thinking about what I needed. "I need to get outside. I need air."

Staring back at the entrance to the bathroom I sighed. I didn't want Aiden to follow me. He had made it clear that he was a silent shadow, and I had enough demons in my own life to keep me company for the evening.

So, like any girl who treats a movie premiere like any other day of the week, I transformed into a not so graceful escape artist and climbed through the bathroom window. That's what normal people did to handle their grief, right?

I hit the ground below the window outside and fell onto my butt, the death heels doing little to help me balance before assisting my fall backward. Zero points to Ravenclaw.

Ungracefully wobbling to my feet, I leaned against the outside wall, soaking in the evening air and letting it reset my soul. I hadn't realized how claustrophobic the entire evening felt until I was back outside, unwatched and unbothered by everyone.

I stood in a shallow alley under the cover of shadows. There was no light other than the spotlights that cut through the sky above, announcing the event that was happening inside the movie theater.

The sun was gone and the night was painted in an inky black tapestry with hints of stars that refused to be seen. It was like the stars were startled by the glaring flashy display that LA put out and scurried away to hide.

Stars had always made me feel less alone. Like there were millions of friends watching over me, encouraging with their bright smiles. But the stars were impossible to see in Los Angeles and I was left staring up at a vast nothingness, isolated by their departure.

Reaching down, I pulled off one of my heels, tired of looking fancy.

"Excuse me," said a voice nearby.

My head snapped up and I took in a burly man with curly brown hair. He had a long scar along the left side of his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer, his face falling into shadows.

"Yep," I replied, gripping my high heel tightly, trying to look calm and casual as I readied to use it as a weapon. Don't underestimate a high heel shoe. They hurt the person who wears them a lot. So just imagine how much damage they could do as a weapon.

"You alone?" he asked, voice curious.

"No," I lied, because who would answer that question honestly. Who would tell someone they are alone? I wouldn't! Especially since to some people, saying you are alone is taken as "hello, I am on a silver platter just for you!"

I motioned to the alley to my left, "My boyfriend's taking my picture. He asked me to pose here." Not gonna lie, I impressed myself with my quick thinking. My brain had never been so useful in a situation like that before. In a society where people took pictures everywhere and boyfriends were often the ones taking all the pictures of their Instagram influencer girlfriends, the idea was very possible. ...If I had a boyfriend. ...Or an Instagram page. ...Or cared about pictures.

The man gazed past me, looking suddenly uncertain. So I continued, wanting him to leave, unsure of how long my luck would last. "You can walk past. He'll take the picture after you are out of the shot."

The burly man nodded and scurried past, only to stop two feet away. He turned, smiling as he looked back at me. "You are quick. I almost fell for that," he laughed easily, amused.

I took a step back and nearly fell over. Everything was uneven with one high heel off. I am rocking as the obvious queen of grace.

I managed to stay half balanced and stared up at the man, doing my best to memorize his face. I had never seen him before, but he seemed to know who I was and if he was going to attack me, I was going to make sure a sketch artist got a VERY good description of him.

"Oh," he took a step back, looking embarrassed, his face still mostly in shadow. "Gosh, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just a huge fan of your work. You're Laliana Summers right?"

I nodded, offering a nervous smile as I pulled off my second high heel, determined to run in comfort if this strange guy suddenly went from awkward to creepy. "Yep."

"WOW!" He grinned widely. "I came out here to get some air, but I had no idea you'd be doing the same thing. I heard you were here but I had no idea I'd run into you. I'm a huge fan!"

I smiled tightly, trying to look sincere. "Thanks."

"So, why are you out here by yourself?"

I shrugged. "Just like you, I guess. Trying to get some air." I offered another smile, easing slightly at the idea that someone else found themselves feeling claustrophobic. But when he took that as an invitation to settle closer, I cleared my throat and took a step back.

"But I think I'm gonna head back inside. Don't want to miss too much of the movie," I lied again. I had zero intentions of walking back inside the screening room. But I wasn't sure what the man wanted and he was giving off a vibe I couldn't quite explain. One that made me feel unsafe.

I offered him a casual wave, refusing to ignore the chilling feeling that had snuck up my spine. "I'll see you back inside." Then I turned and took up a brisk pace back the way he had come, torn between wanting to run, and not wanting to look like a terrified cat every time something spooked me.

"Don't run off Laliana. We were just starting to talk!" He shouted after me.

"Sorry, I gotta go!" I replied and began to walk faster, my bare feet cold on the gritty ground.

A steel grip yanked me to a stop, causing a sharp pain to snake up my arm and burrow into my shoulder. "That's how you do things? Blow off your fans?" He pulled again, forcing me to turn around so fast that my neck hurt from whiplash. "That's rude."

"So is pulling someone to a stop like they are on a leash," I replied trying to yank my wrist free but his grip grew tighter as he towered over me.

"Well it's what you deserve... After all, you are being a bitch."

What came next was pure instinct. I had never fought before, but something wild and angry that I hadn't known existed burst from me in the form of a cutting motion. I lifted my shoe and slammed it into the hand that was wrapped around my wrist, heel first. His grip disappeared as he howled in pain.

Turning, I bolted trying to ignore the blood on my heel, the sound of angry cruses, and the pounding of my terrified heart.

I was suddenly tackled to the ground, the air that I had worked so hard to get back in my lungs suddenly vanished. It was impossible to scream without the air, making my panicked cry, silent and without witness.

I was going to die, and this time it was not going to be due to embarrassment. I had been stupid to think that going anywhere without Aiden was a good idea. And I hated that I had to choose between death and solitude. I could just hear that famous line from "India Jones and the Last Crusade," in my head now. You have chosen... poorly.

---

What movie makes you cry every time you watch it?