chapter 2

464 9 0
                                    

The next morning, Billie Eilish awoke with a familiar knot of dread in her stomach. The anxiety that accompanied each school day had become so routine that it almost felt normal, but today it was worse. The previous day’s events lingered in her mind—the stares, the whispers, the cruel mimicking of her tics. It was exhausting to keep up the facade of indifference, to pretend that none of it bothered her. But today, she could already feel that her defenses were worn thin.

She dressed slowly, her hands trembling as she pulled on her clothes. Finneas knocked on her door lightly, entering without waiting for an invitation. He didn’t need to ask how she was feeling; he could see it in her posture, in the way her shoulders slumped and her head hung low.

“Hey,” he signed gently. “You don’t have to go today, you know. We can stay home.”

Billie shook her head, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile. “I have to try,” she signed back, though even as she did, she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince—Finneas or herself.

Finneas nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. He reached out, squeezing her shoulder in a gesture of support before they both headed downstairs for breakfast. Their parents were already in the kitchen, chatting quietly as they sipped their coffee. They looked up when Billie and Finneas entered, their faces warm with concern.

“How are you feeling today, Billie?” their mother asked, signing the words as she spoke. She and their father had learned sign language alongside Finneas, but even now, it wasn’t as fluent or natural as it was for her brother.

Billie nodded in response, not trusting herself to say—or sign—anything more. She wasn’t sure how to put into words the tangled mess of emotions inside her. How could she explain the constant pressure, the fear that something might go wrong, the exhaustion of just trying to exist in a world that didn’t understand her?

Finneas answered for her. “She’s tired. But she’s going to school.”

Their mother’s eyes softened, and she reached out to tuck a strand of Billie’s hair behind her ear. “Take it easy today, okay? And if it gets to be too much, you can always come home.”

Billie nodded again, appreciating the offer even if she wasn’t sure she could take it. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Her parents worried so much about her, and she hated being the source of that worry. But she couldn’t change who she was, no matter how much easier that might make things.

The walk to school was quiet, the weight of the day ahead pressing down on Billie like a physical force. Finneas walked close beside her, his presence a steadying influence. But even with him there, the anxiety gnawed at her insides, growing stronger with every step.

When they reached the school, Billie hesitated at the entrance, her hand clutching the strap of her backpack so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The cacophony of noise hit her like a wave—the clamor of students, the slamming of lockers, the shrill sound of the bell ringing in the distance. It was too much, too loud, too overwhelming.

Finneas noticed her hesitation and gently nudged her forward. “You can do this,” he signed, his eyes full of encouragement.

Billie took a deep breath and forced herself to move, putting one foot in front of the other as they entered the building. The first class of the day was math, and as Billie sat down at her desk, she tried to focus on the numbers and equations in front of her. But her mind was racing, the anxiety buzzing like a swarm of bees in her head.

The tics started again, small at first—a blink, a twitch, a slight jerk of her shoulder. She tried to suppress them, to push them down, but the more she fought, the worse they became. She could feel the eyes of her classmates on her, the way they watched her out of the corners of their eyes, whispering behind their hands.

muteWhere stories live. Discover now