Shattered Asylum

Chapter 8

I got myself a coffee from Coffee Town. I'm so sleep-deprived I'm surprised I even made it there. My eyes are red and have dark circles under them I didn't bother with makeup today and just threw my hair up in a messy bun, not caring what it looked like.

I got to school a few minutes late and was handed a tardy slip. We've started reading a book in English, but I can't even keep my eyes open. I keep rereading the same sentence over and over again, but the words are just jumbled together, blurry and unfocused.

I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until the bell went off, making me jump out of my seat. My heart pounds as I look around at all the kids packing up, probably wondering if I had been asleep the whole time.

"Ms. Woods, can I see you for a moment?" Mrs. Jean's voice cuts through the chaos, pulling me from my daze. My stomach tightens, and my palms suddenly feel clammy. I grab my backpack and walk toward he desk, the weight of my steps feeling heavy, like they're taking me to a place I don't want to go.

"Yes, Mrs. Jean?" My voice comes out too quiet, too unsure. Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong? Her eyes study me with an intensity I can't quite place.

"Is...everything going okay at home?" She asks, her voice soft but filled with a concern that catches me off guard. The question is innocent enough, but the way she says it makes my stomach twist. I swallow hard, my throat dry.

"Yes?" My voice cracks as I say it, the word more of a question then an answer.

"I'm asking because you always seem tired," She continues, her gaze steady. "Are you not getting enough sleep at home?" Her words are gentle, but I can feel the weight of them pressing against my chest.

My fingers start to fidget, picking at the skin around my fingernails, my usual nervous habit. Why is she asking me this? Why does she care?

I wish I could say something reassuring, but my mind is blank. My hands are sweating, and I can feel my heart rate pick up. I've never had a teacher like this before, someone who actually cared.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I fell asleep." The words tumble out quickly, desperate to explain myself. I feel my breath catch in my throat. My chest tightens, and I fight to keep from saying something that might make things worse.

"Oh, no dear, it's okay. I'm just concerned, that's all." Her voice softens, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm in trouble. I blink a few times, trying to push away the moisture building in my eyes.

I don't want her to see how fragile I am, how easily this situation is unraveling me.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to." I almost wish I could say more, explain myself, but the words won't come. I feel like I'm failing somehow.

Mrs. Jean continues to watch me, but something shifts in her eyes.. something like understanding, or maybe pity. She hands me a note for my next class, and I try to steady my hands as I take it from her.

"Sorry to make you late," she says with a kind smile. "Give your teacher this. Have a good rest of your day, Aven. And remember, I'm always here if you need to talk." The smile feels genuine, warm, but it only makes me more uncomfortable. It's a kindness I'm not used to.

"Thanks, Mrs. Jean. Have a good day, too." My voice is small, but I manage a weak smile before I turn to leave. My heart is still racing, and my stomach is in knots. It feels strange... no, wrong, to have a teacher care so much.

As I walk away, I tuck the note into my pocket, my thoughts racing. That was different... Too different.    

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