Shorts

Never Simple, Never Easy

Author's Note
Hi! My name is Anne and this is the first short story I'll publish in this book. I wrote this story for an English assignment and I had a massive crush on someone at the time so I kind of merged her appearance with my personality to create the character Natasha. This story actually made me cry at one point I'm not even joking. But the character of 'Natasha' is very close to my heart because I was going through quite an awful time. Enjoy!!
Natasha ran. Running away from everything and everyone. She felt her chest tighten and close up; she couldn't breathe.

Natasha seemed completely and utterly perfect in every single way. She had dark brown hair, short, but not too short. She had rich, brown eyes that sparkled when she smiled. She was tall, but not too tall. Her appearance seemed flawless.

Her personality was what let her down. She was overly anxious, clingy and never calm. On top of that she had major trust issues and she didn't like to go out in case she saw people she knew. She only had one friend and couldn't bear being away from her optimistic outlook on life.

Betty was the complete opposite of Natasha. She was carefree and smiley. Natasha called her ginger, but in actual fact she was brunette with maybe a hint of ginger in some lights. She was unbelievably tall, hovering 5 inches above Natasha, Natasha's height being average height. Betty was never stressed and had a sunny disposition which automatically made everyone around her cheery and optimistic. Betty was sort of introverted, only leaving her house to go to school and to go to her never-ending stream of rehearsals for practically every musical under the Sun. Her favourite Smarties were orange and they were the only ones she ate, so she gave the rest of her Smarties to Natasha, who never seemed full.

It had been a dreadfully hard day of revision for Natasha, what with all her major exams in a couple of months time. She was reluctant to get out of bed that morning, even though she woke up to her opinion of the "Satan song"- One Direction. After that she got dressed in a hurry, what with the constant slamming of the snooze button. She had no time for her normal morning routine: get up, eat breakfast, watch Doctor Who, brush teeth, put on shoes, and leave the house in a hurry being almost 10 minutes later than the time she put down on her timetable. So she actually left the house on time and caught the bus on time, not having to run down the hill because the bus was leaving the bus stop.

School was standard: eat, sleep, learn, repeat. Well, sometimes the nap-time was cut short to try and bask off the free Wi-Fi, trying to watch Doctor Who. Doctor Who didn't work, so she tried Sherlock. Sherlock did work.

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The voices wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop talking. No matter how fast she ran, the voices in her head were egging her on to run faster, even at top speed they were screaming at her to run faster. Eventually she had to stop. Everything had to stop. She needed to stop otherwise her muscles would stop and she would collapse. She nearly did collapse because of lack of oxygen. She was on the floor hyperventilating and panicking. Betty came running and almost tripped over her. She had to help Natasha into the recovery position. Betty was purple and the roots of her hair were damp with sweat and she could breathe, mostly.

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. She couldn't breathe because the panic was taken over her lungs. She couldn't do anything because of the panic. The panic and the voices took her down. She couldn't do anything because of the panic. It took over all her body.

"Let's get out of here, lovely," Betty whispered. "Sh come on, let's get out of here."

Natasha was just in a collapsed heap on the floor, hyperventilating and panicking. People walked past, worriedly stealing glances. Betty had to keep on reassuring them it would all be okay until the ambulance came.

"Betty, help me. Jim keeps on telling me to do all these things and I don't think he's going away," Natasha sobbed into Betty.

"Shh, come on, lovely. Tell me about Jim."

"Jim is a little voice in my head, telling me to do everything. He has the loveliest Irish accent and he can be nice but he's scary."

"Come on Tash, what shall we do? You should tell someone," Betty whispered gently. At the word Tash, Natasha let out a small whimper and a little sob. No one had called her Tash since she was 7 years old. Betty was still gently stroking her hair, waiting anxiously for the ambulance.

The ambulance came briskly and took Natasha away with Betty riding along anxiously, still comforting Natasha; still calmly reassuring her that everything would be okay and they would get everything sorted out.