Traveling Through Darkness

Chapter 2.

     About a week has passed and I haven't breathed a word about what happened. Like oh, yea I have these attacks that happen and I think I'm losing my mind! Oh boy! Is that the next flight to the local mental asylum like yea thanks but no? So far I've had about one a day. They're not all as bad as the one I had the first time but still terrifying.

When they happen at school I run to the nearest bathroom and lock myself in it. I think the teachers are getting worried. I'll make something up. Bringggg. The last hour's bell rings, bringing me out of my thoughts. I get the annual "Have a good summer break!" and so on from my friends. I say goodbye and start on my walk home.

A boy appears in front of me and I stop walking, I recognize him as my anxiety. "What could you possibly want?" I start walking again and he walks beside me.

"Aren't you worried?" He looks around skeptically.

"About what?" I rub my temples, annoyed.

"Walking home? By yourself? You could get kidnapped. What if you get run over? What if someone tries to talk to you?" He gets louder with each worry.

I stopped walking and my breathing quickened. "Why are you doing this? Literally, nothing is happening." I started shaking and fell on the grass. What the [Curse word of your choice].

My anxiety started pacing. "God, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry..." Deep breath. "Isn't gonna..." Deep breath. "Fix anything..."

A few minutes pass and my breathing slows. You may be wondering how no one saw me. Yea me too what the [Curse word of your choice] do people just not live here? I pull my back off the ground. My anxiety has stopped pacing and is sitting on the floor messing with his earrings. I let out an exaggerated cough to get his attention. He looks up at me. "Yes?" I glare and shake my head. "Nothing," I grab my backpack and search for something to eat. "Where is it?" I mutter under my breath. My hand lands on a plastic zip-lock bag. "Ah here!" I smile and grab the bag. Anxiety gives me a strange look. I shove a pretzel in my mouth. "What?" He shrugs slightly then blows a fluffy strand of hair out of his face. Rolling my eyes I take another pretzel. "I really need to get home." My anxiety nods. "Oh, hush you're the one who made me late."

I unlock the door and step inside sheepishly. "I'm home...!" Mom steps out of the kitchen holding a bowl. "Where have you been?" She stirs the bowl and gives me a look. Think, think... "Studying!" I blurt out.

Mom raises an eyebrow at me. "Oh?"

"Yep! With Mr..." I look around the room "Mr. Jones! I was having trouble with this math problem...but um no biggie."

Her gaze softens and she nods. "You should have called me."

"Sorry..."

She nods looking like she's done her part and can now calm down. "I'm making cookies!" She smiles. "Wanna help?"

"Sure! Let me just go put my bag up..." I ran upstairs without waiting for an answer. I shut the door and drop my bag on the floor then myself. Sighing I grab my water and take a sip. "Hey!" I jump and lookup. "Sorry didn't mean to scare you." Great, my anxiety has come to join the party. He jumps up on my dresser. "You should tell her ya know?" He takes a sip of a monster. Where did he get that? "She deserves to know."

I consider this then sigh. "I don't know..." I stop to think. "What's your name anyway?"

He looks up from reading the ingredients on the can. "Oh...It's um Timor."

"Cool-" I'm cut off by my mom downstairs.

"You coming, hun?"

"One sec!" I stand up grabbing the bag of pretzels. "Ok bye Timor!"

I run into the kitchen. "Ok, I'm here." She eyes my pretzels. I hold the bag up. "Want some." She smiles, shakes her head, and turns back around. I set the bag on the counter and walked over. Taking a peek into the bowl I see that this batch is not mixed all the way yet. "How many batches are you making?"

She continues to mix the dough and smiles. "A few, for the church."

I nod. "Oh," I hoist myself onto the counter. "Why?"

"A bunch of the older ladies are having a get-together and I was asked to bring cookies."

"Wait, you're not that old though..."

She smirks softly. "You're right, I'm only 22."

A small laugh escapes my lips. "Ok then."