Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Fuck.

You think to yourself as you pace around the room. The A/C was on, all gear was off. The only thing you had on was shorts and a T-shirt, and yet you felt like you were burning alive. God, there was so much to do with such little time. You had paperwork, cleaning, training and so much more. It was like a hundred pound weight on your shoulders, and you got overstimulated. Your hands were on the sides of your head, roughly pulling your hair. You just wanted a break. To relax. To get away from the stress, but it was one thing after another. Until you reached your breaking point when Soap entered the room. He forgot to knock. Again. He was not too pleased to see the scene infront of him.

"And what do you think your doin'? Sit down. Now." He said sharply. Watching as you debated on listening to him or not. What if the sheets made it worse? What if they were too silky or too grainy? God, your arms itch. It feels like bugs crawling in it. Don't scratch it. That never ended well. God, will you ever catch a break?