I excused my self from math class in a polite manner. I stepped carefully on the navy blue tiles, making sure my feet landed on the right line. I touched the sleek, silver door handle, and slowly slid in. I unlocked the stall I always went in, the big one in the corner. The old paint chipped and pinched at my ears. I stared at the nightmare the disgusting toilet seat. I cringed as I layered toilet paper and sat down. I glided my hand across the vaguely painted wall. Counting the seconds go by.
The bell rang and I watched my classmates storm out. Sometimes I don't know why they do this but today I understand why. It was the school dance. My dad was forcing me to go even though I have no friends. But today I walked faster than usual counting my steps of course. I don't know why I do this , father says it is not good and I need a therapist but I refuse. I turned on my straightener for my hair. As I stared to pull up my hair, I burned my neck. I did this out of complete curiosity. The little voice in my ear told me to do 2 more times so I did. My neck singed as I tried to cover it up with my makeup. Why must I attend this dance?😓😓
YOU ARE READING
𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜
Teen FictionThis is the heart twisting diary of a 13 year old girl struggling with undiagnosed OCD.