Scary story

Are you really that afraid of the basement?” My boyfriend was busy putting on his blue buttoned shirt as he asked me casually. I glared back at him. “You’re seriously going to bring this up now? I’m busy getting ready for dinner” I said grumpily, pulling on my bra. He shrugged apologetically, “Look, I’m sorry okay, I just want to know why, especially if it’s such a big issue. We can talk about it whenever you want. But I would really like to talk about it eventually.” His tone was calm and filled with sincere concern. I sighed. Timothy had been so great. We’d been living together for over a year now and he’d been very patient with me and my phobia of dark places. I don’t just mean I’m afraid of the dark, I mean I go into full on panic attack mode and start tearing the walls apart with my bare hands and finger nails and teeth if it gets even close to dark in any room I’m in. It makes going out at night or doing anything normal like going to the cinema, or planetarium or club or bar very difficult. I also cannot enter a bathroom that has no natural light and nothing but motion-sensor based lights. If they go out for just a second my heart races, my blood boils from fear and my lungs burn from panic. I scream and run, crying usually until I’m back in the light.