My Disorder's

-Part 1-

In my dark room, sitting cross legged at my desk on my chair. The pale glow of my laptop is the only light illuminating my empty room. Clicking my mouse I stop playing my game and open a new tab. My fingers speed across my keyboard, I bring up google, searching.

~The definition of anxiety~ I scan the screen, my eyes reading:

Anxiety

1. a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.

"he/she felt a surge of anxiety"

•Psychiatry

•a nervous disorder marked by excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behaviour or panic attacks.

•"he/she suffered from anxiety attacks"

An abrupt knock scares me half to death. My eyes dart around the room. I jump up, shaking like a scared rabbit, grabbing a pillow off my bed, along with a pencil. I hold the pencil above my head, ready to attack anyone who comes in.

'Sweety? It's ok, it's just me, your Mum.' My body trembles and I drop my pencil, clinging to my pillow, I unsteadily make my way to the door.

'M-mum?' My hand shakes uncontrollably as I reach for the door handle. I turn it slowly, it makes a jiggling sound as I shake more.

I open the door just wide enough to see out of it. My eyes look up and down the crack. There stood a beautiful woman, maybe around the age of 34, with flaming red hair. She smiles a stunning smile.

'Is all your stuff packed?' She speaks calmly and softly.

I nod, flicking on my dim lamp and point to a small duffle bag. 'That's good sweetie.' She cups my face and gives me a kiss on the cheek. 'Now you need to get some sleep. We need to get up early, we have a long drive. Good night sweetie.' Mum turns to leave. 'Oh and don't forget to have a shower.'

I nod and close the door. I let out a big sigh of relief and head for the bathroom, I close the bathroom door behind me and stare at the mirror. Staring back at me is a pale skinned girl with messy black hair, shadows under her eyes like she hasn't slept in weeks. Words start pouring out of my ears.

'You're ugly.' They laugh. 'You should just go die.'

The words cover everything, blackness creeps from every corner. My breathing quickens and I start to hyperventilate.

'Ugly, freak, monster, just go die! Ugly, freak, monster, just go die.' The words repeat themselves, the laughing and whispering starts.

I stare wide-eyed at the mirror, I scream and punch it. Cracks appear and some pieces of glass fall into the sink.

'Go kill yourself, you will be helping the world if you just leave.' I pick up a large bit of glass and squeeze it.

Blood drips into the sink. I tighten my grip and press the glass down hard on my wrist. I rip it across my skin again, again, again and again. I then stab my arm. Blood sprays as I lift the glass out of my my arm. I stab myself over and over. Looking up at the broken mirror, my face looks like it has cracked and the cracks are bleeding. I stare at myself.

'Oh, look...I feel no pain yet I cry tears of blood.' I think as blood rolls from the corner of my eyes.

Blood splatters on the floor. I undress and turn the shower on. As I step in, the water hits my bloody arm. I know normal people would feel a suffering pain but all I feel is a little sting. I sit down, pulling my legs up to my chest and begin rocking back and forth as the water that sits in the bottom of the shower turns a pale red.

'What is wrong with you?' They all laugh. 'Why are you so weird?' I cry back. I can still hear them asking me. All I say back is, 'I don't know.' Sighing, I turn the shower off, get up and watch the reddish water swirl down the drain.

I dry myself off and open the mirror up, taking out my toothbrush. I brush my teeth as I put some fresh clothes on. I grab the bandages and wrap my wounded arm up. I rinse my toothbrush off along with the sink. I clean up all the blood, throwing the broken glass in the bathroom bin. I go back into my bedroom and pick up my laptop, climbing onto my bare bed. I plug the charger in, putting on some music. Slowly I drift off into a dreamless sleep.