The Mask We Wear [A 10 Chapter Story]

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Struggles & Coping Mechanism

As days went by, small signs of Stella’s struggles started to show, little hints of the difficult reality she was trying to manage.

It would begin with something as simple as a conversation. One moment, she’d be laughing with Dianne and Delilah, their faces full of joy—and then, like a ripple in her vision, everything would feel strange, like she was watching from far away.

She’d blink, but the feeling wouldn’t leave, a strange disconnection that made it hard to focus. At first, she tried to ignore it, hoping it would pass. But then it happened again, this time during class.

She was staring at the blackboard, but the words seemed to drift in and out, and the teacher’s voice faded to a soft hum.

Stella looked around, her heart racing as she tried to feel present, but the room seemed distorted, like she was only halfway there.

“Aria?” she whispered in her mind, reaching out for comfort.

“I’m here,” Aria’s voice was steady and calming, like an anchor in a storm. “You’re okay, Stella. I’m with you.”

But the episodes were getting harder to handle. Sometimes, she would be in the cafeteria, only to suddenly feel as if she were just a spectator watching herself eat.

She’d lose track of time, blinking and realizing she’d been staring into space, her friends’ voices blending together.

Other times, she’d see her reflection in a window or mirror, and for a moment, she wouldn’t recognize the face looking back.

One afternoon, she stood in the hallway, looking at her reflection in a classroom window. Her face looked back, but there was a distance, a strange feeling that it wasn’t really hers.

“Aria,” she whispered again, sounding a bit desperate.

“It’s okay, Stella,” Aria replied, calm and reassuring. “Just breathe. This happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean you’re alone.”

"But I don’t feel like myself." Stella thought, her mind spinning. She tried to ground herself, counting her fingers, touching her face, but each action felt unfamiliar, like she was doing it through a fog.

Before long, Dianne noticed. One day, Stella was in the middle of a sentence, only to stop suddenly, her gaze distant and unfocused. Dianne gently touched her shoulder, worry in her eyes.

“Stella? Are you okay?”

Stella blinked, the room coming back into focus. She nodded quickly, even though she still felt disoriented. “I… yeah, I’m fine. Just… distracted.”

Dianne didn’t press her, but the concern in her eyes stayed. She seemed to sense that Stella was dealing with something deeper, something fragile and hard to describe.

Each time, Stella would retreat into herself, seeking Aria’s steady presence as reassurance that she was still herself, even though her reality felt blurry.

And as much as Aria tried to help her feel grounded, Stella could feel the weight of it—the fear of losing herself, of not knowing where she ended and Aria began.

Stella’s days felt heavier, each one adding to a feeling of strangeness she couldn’t shake. The little moments of dissociation became more frequent, but now they came with something else—a faint presence she couldn’t quite explain.

It was like a soft whisper, hidden at the edges of her mind, a feeling she didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

She could tell something was changing. Each time she felt herself drift, the feeling of being somewhere else grew stronger, as if a new part of her was forming in the shadows.