When The World Turns

Chapter 16 (Official)

I wake up feeling like I haven’t slept at all.

The light leaking through my window tells me it’s way past the time I should’ve gotten up for school. But I don’t care. I don’t even feel the usual rush of panic when I realize I’ve overslept. There’s just… nothing. Like someone emptied me out and left only the shell behind.

I stay curled under my blanket, staring at nothing, listening to the faint hum of the fridge down the hall and the occasional creak of the walls. My body feels heavy. Too heavy to move. Too heavy to exist.

My throat aches when I swallow, raw and scratchy like I screamed all night. Maybe I did. I can’t even remember when I finally fell asleep. Just flashes of tears, my pillow soaked, my chest hurting in a way that had nothing to do with bruises.

Eventually, I force myself to move. The world feels distant, like I’m watching through a fogged up window.

The floorboards creak as I step into the narrow hallway just outside my room. The bathroom is right beside it, barely a few feet across the cramped space that separates my door from the others. Straight ahead is the storage room. Locked and untouchable. Like always. I don’t even glance at it as I slip into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

Flicking on the light that’s way too bright, my reflection hits me like a slap. Puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, hair matted and sticking up in weird directions. I look like I’ve been crying for a week straight. Maybe I have, in some way.

I stare at the mirror for a long time, like I’m trying to recognize the girl in front of me. She looks so tired. So… hollow.

I’m so tired of this. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.

I move slowly, grabbing my toothbrush and smearing some toothpaste on. Brushing my teeth feels almost normal, like muscle memory kicking in while my brain takes the morning off.

When I finish, I splash cold water on my face. Again and again and again, until my skin is pink and stinging, and the chill seeps into my scalp as I run handfuls through my hair. It shocks me awake, just a little.

I step out of the bathroom, the wet strands of my hair clinging to my neck. The hallway feels colder than usual. I walk the few short steps to my room and go straight to the little wooden table by the wall. My hairbrush is sitting on top of it, exactly where I last left it.

I pick it up and start dragging it through the knots in my hair, wincing a little with each tug. The bristles feel rough against my scalp, but I keep going, needing to smooth out something, anything, even if it’s just this mess on my head.

Once my hair is somewhat tamed, I set the brush back down and pull open the drawer. It creaks slightly.

Inside, everything’s neatly arranged, a deodorant, a half used bottle of lotion, an old cracked mirror that’s seen better days, a tangle of old hair ties, and some extra pads.

I reach for the deodorant and uncap it. The scent is soft, something faintly floral. I swipe it under my arms without thinking, barely even feeling it.

One thing at a time.

Placing everything back to where it was, I close the drawer with a soft thud and turn away from the table. My eyes land on the chair beside it, empty except for the slight dent in the cushion.

Of course, the uniform isn't there. Why would it be? I never took it off. I slept in it.

Sighing, I shuffle over to the closet and pull open the doors. I’m not in the mood to squeeze back into that stiff uniform. Thankfully, school isn’t that strict. I grab a pair of jeans and a plain shirt, something simple and easy.