Billie sat in her English class, trying to focus on the teacher's lecture. Her hands gripped her pen tightly as she felt the familiar tension building in her muscles. She tried to take deep breaths, hoping to stave off the tic attack she could feel looming.
It started with a small vocal tic, a barely audible grunt that she managed to stifle. But as the minutes ticked by, the tics grew stronger. Her arm jerked suddenly, hitting the edge of her desk with a loud thud. The room fell silent for a moment before a few students started to snicker. Billie felt her face flush with embarrassment.
The vocal tics came next, louder this time. A series of involuntary yelps and barks escaped her mouth, drawing more attention. She could see her classmates whispering and pointing, their faces a mix of amusement and confusion. Billie tried to suppress the tics, but the effort only made them worse.
Her body twitched violently, her hand slapping against her thigh repeatedly. Each hit sent a jolt of pain through her, but she couldn't stop. The laughter around her grew louder, blending with the teacher's attempts to regain control of the class. Billie wanted to crawl under her desk and disappear.
In the midst of the attack, Billie reminded herself of the coping strategies her therapist had taught her. She focused on her breathing, trying to slow it down despite the chaos in her body. She reminded herself that the attack would pass, that she just had to ride it out.
The teacher finally intervened, asking the class to settle down and giving Billie a sympathetic look. She gestured for Billie to step outside, away from the prying eyes of her classmates. Billie gratefully took the escape, clutching her books to her chest as she hurried out of the room.
In the hallway, she leaned against the wall, letting the last of the tics run their course. Tears of frustration and embarrassment stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. She took a few more deep breaths, trying to steady herself.
When the attack finally subsided, Billie wiped her eyes and straightened up. She knew she had to go back in, face the laughter and whispers. But she also knew she was stronger than the tics, stronger than the judgment of her classmates. Taking one last deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked back into the classroom, head held low.
As Billie returned to the classroom, she tried to ignore the whispers and sideways glances. She took her seat, focusing intently on her notebook. The lesson resumed, but she could still feel the eyes of her classmates on her.
At lunch, Billie sat alone in the corner of the cafeteria, hoping to go unnoticed. She unwrapped her sandwich, trying to distract herself with the mundane task of eating. However, a group of students soon approached her table. Among them were a few of the ones who had laughed the loudest during her attack.
"Hey, Tic-Tac," one of them sneered, smirking at her. "Having fun today?"
Billie's heart sank. She tried to ignore them, but the jeers continued.
"Maybe she'll start barking again," another one taunted, making exaggerated sounds that mimicked her vocal tics. The group burst into laughter, drawing more attention to Billie.
She could feel the tension building in her muscles again. The stress and humiliation were triggering another attack. Her body began to twitch involuntarily, her hand slapping against the table. The vocal tics returned, louder and more desperate than before.
The bullies laughed even harder, pointing and imitating her tics. Billie felt trapped, unable to escape the spotlight of their ridicule. Her vision blurred with tears, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. The tics were relentless, her body jerking and convulsing as she struggled to regain control.
