Stop The World

Zoey’s Pov:

I’m frustrated at everything. Why? I don’t know, I just am. I look around my room, looking for something that’s not right, something that’s not where it’s supposed to be, something I can fix. I find it, my books, I haven’t organized my bookcase in two weeks and I read 4 different books since then, so they’re not in the right place. I sigh in relieve, because as much as it annoys me that I will have to spend half an hour organizing it, it’s finally something I can fix. I walk over to my desk and grab my chair, I put it in front of my bookcase and sit down. I grab all the books from my case one by one and lay them on my bed. Then I start putting them in groups. First it’s just a difference between fictional, non-fiction and  diaries. Then I continue to divide them into smaller groups until finally I’m satisfied. Then I take the books and put them in my bookcase, I make sure to put the book series such as Harry Potter and The Hunger Games in the right order from first book to last. When I’m finally done I stand back and look if there are any books that aren’t in the right place, after checking 4 times I put my chair back at my desk and sit on my bed. I stare at my wall for ten minutes while I try to calm down, as I start to realize what just happened.

I had a panic attack for the first time in two whole months I had a panic attack. But that’s not even the worst thing, the worst thing is what I did when I had it. I need to fix this. Now. I get up from my bed and walk downstairs with the intention of cleaning up the mess that I made. My mother is sitting on the couch, she looks up when she hears my and I can see she’s been crying. I freeze. What do I do?  I’m not good with tears… scratch that, I not good with anything that shows human emotion. I look at the floor and see she already cleaned up the mess I made. So I just walk to the fridge and open it hoping to find something that will get my mind of off this. I find nothing so I just close the door, then I start looking in some cabinets until I find what I’ve been looking for, chocolate. I grab the chocolate bar and sit at the dinner table knowing that my mother hates it when I eat upstairs. I eat the chocolate bar in silence until my mother speaks up “Are you just going to sit there and eat or are you going to apologize?!” She’s pissed and I know why, I just broke her favorite teacup an hour ago. But I keep my mouth shut, get up and walk up to my room.

I know I’m being unfair, but I just can’t help it.

When I get in my room I close my door behind me and just stand there not knowing what to do. Eventually I turn around and in one swift movement I punch my wall. I like it. The look, the sound, the pain. It reminds me that I can still feel. I look at my hand and smile it’s not bleeding but it’s already swollen and purple. I stretch my fingers and get a strange satisfaction from the pain it causes me. Suddenly my mother comes bursting through my door “I heard a bang, are you ok?! Did you break something?! What happened?!” I just keep my mouth shut and keep my hand at my side. She looks at me, I can see her growing more irritated with every second I don’t speak. I smile. It’s not that I like to see my mother get angry at me, it’s just that I find it strangely fascinating when she does. I raise my eyebrow and wait for her to leave, she doesn’t instead she just walk to my desk and sits in my chair “What are you doing?” my voice sounds weird, the last time I heard it I was screaming, no sentences, no words, just screaming. “I’m going to wait here until you talk to me” She says

“You can’t just do that!” I sound like I’ve been crying, which irritates me because I haven’t.

“Yes I can, and I will” She says

“No”

“Zoey, you can fight me on this one but you will lose”

I let out a humorless laugh “Right, well good luck with that, I’m out” I walk out of my room and put my sneakers on