Atelophobia
(n.) the fear of imperfection or not good being enough; an extreme fear of failing to achieve perfection in any of one's actions, ideas, or beliefs.
Chapter One.
Poppy Brite once said, "The night is the hardest time to be alive and four a.m. knows all my secrets." That very quote ran through Kiera's head as she ran down the sidewalk.
She couldn't stop the tears that ran down her face. Moments earlier, Kiera had been lying in bed; staring at the green glowing stars on her ceiling. There was so much to think about.
Everything she had ever done wrong. Everything her parents told her was wrong about herself. She was failing them. Those thoughts were so heavy that she felt like she was being crushed. She was drowning in her own failure and every attempt she made to redeem herself just pulled her deeper into the darkness.
The walls around her seemed to be getting closer and closer; till finally, she left. Kiera had sprung out of bed, slid the window up, and climbed out.
That's why she was here, running down the streets of Riverstorm. It was a large town that was always crawling with night life. Tonight was no exception, cars speed down the road and small packs of people lingered on street corners.
Suddenly Kiera was sprawled across the ground, making friends with cement. She hadn't seen the uneven slab of pavement and had tripped over it. The girl made no attempt to sit up; hot tears were already escaping her eyes and sliding down her face. She could tell by the stinging in her palms and knees that she was bleeding. The sudden rush of cold air on her toes also told her that she had lost her shoe.
People just walked around her assuming she was just another teen who hadn't quite figured how to handle her boozes yet. Normally she would be angered at the idea of even being grouped with that crowd, but now she was thankful that she could just lay there and catch her breath.
"Hey, Miss, are you alright?"
Kiera inwardly groaned, 'Just keep walking. Please.'
This stranger was persistent, "I saw you take quite the fall. You haven't moved at all, I was just wondering if you're alright."
Kiera took a deep breath, "I-" her voice cracked and more tears spilled down her face, "I d-don't know."
"Here. Let's get you up. The sidewalk is filthy. Besides, we wouldn't want you to be trampled, would we?" The stranger helped her sit up. Kiera was met with pretty blue/green eyes brimmed with black eyeliner.
"I believe this is yours," the bleached blonde boy chuckled as he held out her shoe.
"Uh, yeah. That's mine." She muttered softly and wiped away her tears with the corner of her sleeve. "I'm sorry for this."
"Sorry for what?" He asked as he slipped her shoe back onto her foot and even going so far as to tying the laces.
"This. You didn't have to do that or stop for me...I," Kiera paused, "I would have been fine in a few minutes."
"Of course you would have." He placed his chin in the palm of his hand, "But I was just watching from across the street. It's really no trouble. I just wanted to help."
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