Your nose is practically inside the circuit board when a crack like a gunshot sets the entire dryer shaking and sends you face first into the metal back wall. It's only when you glance over your shoulder that you can identify the source of the sound and fuck if your entire stomach doesn't implode. You hurtle towards the door, pressing your hands frantically against the grime as you try to force it open, hoping against hope that the adrenaline from your hammering heart will give you some kind of superhuman strength to bust the door open. A second thud forces your hands over your ears as every sound is magnified inside this metal coffin and you bring your knees closer into your chest; if you're smaller, the space has got to be bigger (at least that's your logic right now).

Pawing at the window, you squint through the plastic,

"Piper!"

You hate how your voice cracks involuntarily but you can feel your throats constricting and paresthesia creeping into your toes; where the fuck is chapman? She's just started to NOT avoid you and she chooses now to go back to her disappearing act; you know you're not a great person but if karma could choose a different way to manifest itself, one which doesn't involved confined places preferably, then you would really appreciate it. Fuck, there's no air in here and just when you think things can't get worse, Pennsatucky's mangled grin swims into view and she waves a handful of snapped cables at you tauntingly; if you weren't stuck inside this dryer you swear to god you would rip her stupid meth-head face off with your bare hands. But goddamn it you are stuck inside this dryer and the walls are closing in around you, a tiny part of you is glad that Piper isn't here because you are all too conscious of how pathetic you look; gasping for breath and pushing at the walls, as if you have the strength to break them down. Fuck fuck fuck you're going to die. This is it. This is how you die. In a fucking dryer in Litchfield fucking prison. The paresthesia has claimed all your extremities now, and you just cannot catch your breath; every breath you manage to steal is gasped and frantic. This death box you're trapped inside feels like it's being tossed on a stormy ocean, you're so dizzy and your chest hurts and all you want is for this to stop. The worst of it is you can feel tears brimming in your eyes; you'll have no chance of pretending you're okay when... if Piper comes back.

You shudder at the thought of what'll happen to you if she doesn't come back; there is definitely not enough air in here to sustain you and that isn't just the anxiety talking. You're going to die. Shit. You're going to die. You didn't think this could get any worse but now every limb is quivering and you can hear the sobs bursting from you without permission but you can't stop them. You're so far gone you don't notice the face at the window until she's called your name at least 4 times.

"ALEX!"

You open your eyes to see blue ones gazing back at you, concerned etched into their pupils. You're beyond caring about your image at this point and you pathetically paw at the door, begging her to let you out.

"Pipes you have to get me out of here, please I'm going to die I can't breathe Pipes I can't breathe-"

She cuts you off firmly but gently, holding eye contact with you in a way that only she can,

"Alex I need you to trust me ok? I'm going to get you out of there and we're going to be fine I promise,"

"But I-"

"Alex do you trust me?"

"Well yeah but-"

"No buts, just trust me. Before I can get you out I need you to calm down can you do that?"

You shake your head, still weakly hyperventilating and very conscious of your blurred vision,

"Ok, don't worry, I'm going to help you. Breathe with me Al, you can do that, remember that mindfulness class we took in Thailand?"

You do remember. You remember telling Piper it was a waste of time and that you had your anxiety under control (you didn't tell her that you just smoked weed whenever you get anxious but that was beside the point)- the irony of the current situation is not lost on either of you. You didn't pay attention in that class but right now the only thing keeping you sane is watching the rise and fall of Piper's chest and trying to mimic it yourself. She tells you to close your eyes and you do, she counts in for three, hold for three and out for three and you follow each instruction obediently- as terrifying as Piper could be, she always knew how to make you feel safe and that clearly hasn't changed.

You're so lost in this newfound serenity that you don't notice as Piper quietly pries open the door to the dryer, cursing quietly under her breath as she breaks a nail.

"Al?"

Your eyes fly open as you are brought back to reality with a thump. The door is swung open in front of you and you have never been happier to see Piper fucking Chapman in front of you, including all the times she has been stood in front of you naked, this tops them all.

Scrambling out of the death trap you don't even think about what you're doing before you throw your arms around skinny shoulders and bury your face in blonde locks which still, despite having been at Litchfield for a good while now, smell vaguely like that damn knock-off Chanel perfume she always used to wear. You feel arms around your waist and for the first time since you arrived at this godforsaken prison, you feel safe.