happy reading x
Rowan's POV.
The next afternoon things went a little south.
Instead of being in chemistry, like I should have been, I was sat on the chairs outside Mrs Richardson's office because I was dizzy.
Dizzy because I had been holding my breath so much that I had gone lightheaded, pale, and slightly delirious. I had been sent to her office.
Which was publicly embarrassing, but I had greater fish to fry.
I can't get it out of my head. The thought. Today. I have been trying and trying to do all the other coping mechanisms.
Nothing is working.
And I know I just need to count and it'll be ok and I will know she's fine.
But I feel so determined to get better.
So I can't count.
But I genuinely feel sick with stress right now.
"Rowan?" Mrs Richardson says softly from the door. "Sorry about that dear, I had a phone call, but you can come in now."
I stand and follow her in.
It's weird.
The dynamic now.
Because I am fucking losing my shit over her daughter.
I sit down on by the table and just rest my head down on my arms and Mrs Richardson shuts the door, puts up the do not disturb sign and comes and joins me at the table.
I don't say anything.
So she stands again and goes and finds a worksheet for me.
It's all we really do here.
I come here exhausted or in crisis and she gives me something to do to distract me.
"Colouring or wordsearch Rowan?"
I close my eyes because I have no energy to do either right now.
I am not even anxious anymore.
Just tired.
If people die because I didn't count on my hand, then life's too fucked up for me to fix anyway.
She sits back down at the table and slides over a colouring page and I probably would have let out a sound of amusement at how childish I feel, but instead I just grabbed the pen she was then holding out for me and still with my head rested on my arm I start drawing lines in the spaces.
"Did you use your exit card or just walk out?" She says quietly.
"Got sent out because I looked ill."
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"Just the anxiety."
"Because of the compulsions?" She asks.
I nod. "Because I am resisting them and it's going to actually drive me insane."
She looks at me.
I tell her. "Genuinely, you all think I am insane now because I have to check things or count on my hands? What's gonna happen when the stress of not doing it takes its toll?"
"Rowan dear you are doing this guided by many professionals. You are not alone."
I know I am not alone.
I concentrate back on the paper.
I wish I was.
Just when I am like this.
YOU ARE READING
Non Verbal
Teen FictionLottie and Rowan's story: "You count to four." I state after a moment of silence. "I count to four and my safe number is three. You have turned everything upside down. Three, six, nine... Was what I used to think in. I used to check the door, the ov...