***Title: A Safe Place for Billie**
Billie always had a hard time explaining it to people. The way her mind sometimes just… slipped, making her feel much younger than she really was. At 15, she was supposed to be worrying about high school, exams, and fitting in. But sometimes, her brain decided that all of that was just too much, and she’d find herself feeling more like she was 5 or 6 years old again.
The school knew about her age regression. Her parents had spoken to the administration and the teachers about it at the beginning of the year. They were understanding, at least on paper. The school counselor had assured Billie’s parents that she’d be supported, that the staff was prepared to help her if she ever needed it. There was even a small space set up in the nurse’s office just for Billie—a cozy little corner with soft blankets, plush toys, and coloring books. It was her safe place, a space where she could go when everything else felt too overwhelming.
Most days, Billie managed to keep it together. She had a routine: classes, lunch, and then a quiet break in the nurse’s office where she could just breathe for a few minutes before heading back to class. But some days, no matter how hard she tried, the world became too much, and she found herself regressing without warning.
Today was one of those days.
Billie could feel it creeping in during her third-period math class. The numbers on the board swam before her eyes, and the teacher’s voice became a muffled buzz. Her hands trembled as she tried to write down the problems, but her pencil slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the wave of panic that was rising in her chest.
“I’m not five,” she whispered to herself, barely audible. “I’m not five.”
But the feeling didn’t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, and soon she was clutching her notebook, her mind drifting far from the classroom. When the teacher asked her a question, she couldn’t even comprehend what was being said. Her breathing quickened, and she could feel the stares of her classmates, the weight of their eyes heavy on her.
Then it happened.
She let out a soft, involuntary whimper, like a child lost in a crowd. The sound echoed through the room, and suddenly all eyes were on her. A few students giggled, while others exchanged confused glances. But then there was a voice—sharp and cruel—that cut through the fog in Billie’s mind.
“What’s wrong with you, Billie?” It was Rachel, one of the popular girls. She sneered at Billie, her voice dripping with mockery. “Why are you acting like a baby? What are you, five?”
The words stung, and Billie’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt the tears welling up, the panic rising. She knew she was about to have a meltdown, but she couldn’t stop it. The room felt too loud, too bright, too much. She needed to get out, to find her safe place, but her feet wouldn’t move. She was frozen in place, trembling.
“Aw, is baby Billie gonna cry?” another student jeered.
Billie’s vision blurred with tears, and the room spun around her. She was on the verge of collapsing when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. Startled, she looked up and saw Lilo, a quiet girl from her English class. Lilo had never been one of the loud or popular kids, but she was kind, always sitting at the back of the room, sketching in her notebook.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Lilo said softly, her voice calm and reassuring. She crouched down beside Billie, blocking the other students from view. “You don’t have to listen to them. Let’s get you to the nurse’s office, okay?”
Billie nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was tight with the effort of holding back sobs. Lilo took her hand, and the two of them slowly made their way out of the classroom. The teacher, who had been frozen in shock, finally regained his senses and began to scold the students for their behavior. But Billie barely heard him. All she could focus on was Lilo’s steady presence beside her.
