The Girl With OCD

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

     Watching Jesse's reaction time, I realize why he's a sports superstar. 

     "What's this?" He says, eying me suspiciously.

     "A jar of... prescription for.."  

     "Obsessive compulsive disorder?" His eyes grow wide.

      And, then, the inevitable happens. He pokes me with his spoon, "Oh, no! You're contaminated!!

     "Shut up."    

      He pokes me again, "You're going to have to go wash your arm!"  

     "Shut up!" I'm getting angrier and angrier.    

     "Or maybe," he pauses, "if you don't, you'll get some incuable disease!"   

     "I said shut up!"

     Whoops. 

      I swipe at the tear that fell off my chin. I then backhand my eyes, so that he hopefully can't see the tears that are starting to form. I grab the jar when my crying catches him off-guard.

      "Just. Shut. Up. You know nothing. You don't even know. Stop speaking. I don't want you to even talk to me. Leave. Me. Alone." I stare at him, right in the eyes, not moving.

     He smirks, and I feel a hatred growing inside of me. "Why should I shut up?" 

      "Because you're- and I know it's ironic- smart. If you know what's good for you, you'll hold your tongue!"

       "Oh, so now your British?" 

     "Can't you hear me? Shut up!" I turn on my heel and leave the classroom, and the bell rings behind me.

    Once I get home after school,  I sink into the purple chair in our living room. After today, my stress levels have gone up. Every time I get stressed, the amount of thoughts go up. Then, because I'm worried about the thoughts, I get more stressed, and the cycle continues. It's horrible and never seems to end. I close my eyes and imagine an OCD-free life. Free from the snares and chains that encumber me. The constant feeling of anxiety that never allows any relaxation. I decide to just crawl in bed.

      I feel trapped in my bedroom, my blankets feel like bricks, and, since I shut the blind, I am in total darkness. The weight of my thoughts push every other emotion from my mind. No curiosity, peace, joy, or hope remains. No escape. Nothing to look up to but a dark roof. An empty, void, truthless world. It's a place where my nightmares could come true, and usually do. In my dreams, the Cage reigns supreme. I'm haunted by it. When I wake, I feel like screaming for some reality, truth, or anything for me to grasp on to. As I'm lying there in anxiety and depression, I hear a still, small voice saying "Pray".

     Pray! Like that'll help.

     I still feel like I should pray, even fifteen minutes later.

     Fine!

     I roll over, and start my prayer. 

     Dear God... Why? How? How can You call Yourself loving when I'm trapped in this pit? While my brain is on overload... Why aren't you helping me?

      Another quiet thought comes. And, unlike the OCD, it does not bring fear, pain, or terror. It brings something I never thought I could have - peace.

     Trust Me. I love you. You are My child, and I will never leave you or forsake you. Trust Me. I love you.

     I close my eyes. Alright, God. I'll trust You. For now.

     A small sample of rest follows that prayer, that conversation. Rest - something that we take for granted too much. We need to appreciate it, becuase there are people who are struggling to even close their eyes.

     The morning routine goes by fast. The flecks don't bother me, and nothing seems to - until it's time for breakfast. Then, like a dam breaking and all the water rushing out, my peaceful wall shatters and a flood of icy water pours out, covering everything, and dissolving the last of that peaceful part of me.

      If you eat with this fork, you'll die! If you put it down, you'll kill Cody! If you don't eat that toast, you'll go to hell! Don't think about the sun! Don't even walk on those white squares! You'll die! Hell! Death! Murder! Die! Fire! Hell!!

     My mom and I have a conversation that I don't remember. I'm just trying to survive, which is easier said than done. It seems like reality felt like crashing my tranquil party. Peace is like a fantasy, a something that I cannot have, no matter what I do. I board the bus silently, not even pausing to smile at the bus driver. I haven't missed smiling at the bus driver for six years, not since Dad died. His death was strange, and unexpected. One day, he was fine, and then the next, he was rushed off to a major city's hospital for chemotherapy. Within a week, he passed away.

     I think about him as I board the bus. And then the irony of the situation ahead of me clears all other thoughts from my head, no matter how precious. The only empty seat is next to Jesse Gallagher. I gulp, raise my head, and stalk down to the red leather-like seat. I feel like I'm about to be executed.

     Jesse looks up at me, "Hey."

     Startled that he would even be talking to me, I just reply with a curt nod.

     "What's up?" He asks, as if we've been BFFs since kindergarten. The bus starts moving forward.

     I look at him, "Why are you talking to me? Shouldn't you be making fun of me? Texting everybody about my OCD? Preparing my inevitable torture over it?"

     He raises his eyebrows, "Uh, no?"

     I'm surprised, "Why?"

     "Why would I?"

     "You're Jesse Bohr! You're known for your... attitude! And after yesterday, I was prepared to face the worst!" I raise my voice.

     He smirks, "I let you off the hook... for today."

     I sigh, "Just today?"

     "Unless you make me mad," The way he's looking at me makes me feel that he's not lying.

     "You're too kind." I say sarcastically. I'm trying to cut this conversation short.

          The next portion of the ride is accomplished in silence, which is good and bad. The good: I don't have to talk to Jesse, and possibly make him mad. The bad: Cage has the time to work itself up.

     You're going to Hell if you sit down!

      I'm already sitting down!

     Then stand up!

     I stand up. The bus driver yells at me from the front of the bus, "Sit, Rose!". I try to sit, but my bones won't move. I'm stuck. 

     Jesse grabs my arm and pulls me down.

     "What are you thinking?" He looks at me as if I'm insane.

     No lie comes to mind, so I try to draw out the truth, "I... it was... uh..."

     He shakes his head, "And I'm called the trouble child." He interrupts me.

     As I get off the bus, I apologize to the driver. He just shrugs and makes a comment about wanting to keep his job. Before I step through the doors to Glenloft High School, Jesse stops me.

     "Are you okay?" He stares at me. I get the feeling that I can't lie to this guy. He seems to know a thing or two about lying.

     I shrug him off, "Why do you care?"

     "Because I know how it feels."

     "How what feels?" But as soon as my question is out, I realize that he's not there anymore.