Only You || Newtmas

1.0

"Breathe in. And out. In. And out." I tell myself while looking at my reflection in the grime-covered mirror and calming my heart rate.
The panic attacks have been coming more often recently, maybe because of my parents' constant yelling, or having to look after my sister Sonya, the house and the bills virtually on my own. Perhaps that my stupid excuse of a father is the problem behind all this. The fact that he comes home drunk every night. Even the house reaks of alcohol.
Whatever it is, it's making me more anxious than ever.

My anxiety has taken over my life since the first argument between my parents and it has ruined me. All the shouting, objects flying, trips to the emergency room after a vase hits someone in the face or a head gets banged against a bookcase. Or when Sonya accidently gets caught in the middle of it and gets hurt. That's what makes the most mad. I can't cope with all the conflict.

After my little pep talk to myself, I gather my books for today's lessons and shove them in my bag before zipping it up and swinging it over my shoulder.

I run to the bathroom quickly, fixing my hair and brushing my teeth. As I do so I lose track of time, staring at myself in the mirror. What I see looking back at me disgusts me. I hate myself, my looks, the fact that I'm so introverted, just everything. I don't know why, it's just always been that way.

I bend over, glancing at the time on my old phone to see that I'm late. As usual.

I charge out of the bathroom and down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time and stumbling on the last few, nearly face-planting on the floor. I pick myself and I quickly rush into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast and scoffing it down.

I shout a goodbye to Sonya, who is sitting on the couch on her phone since her bus comes half an hour later, and sprint out the door at full speed, hoping that I didn't miss my bus.

Luckily I spot it at the end of the street, and, just on time, I run to the end of the drive, skidding past the post box and hopping through the rusty doors of the bus only seconds before they close on me.

I nod a hello to the driver who smiles back at me, probably the only human other human interaction that I'll have all day, as I make my way to my seat at the rear of the coach, thankful that I don't have to walk and be late again.

I plop down in a seat, trying to isolate myself from everyone else in the bus. I prop by elbow up on the arm rest and put my chin in my hand, letting my forehead press against the cold, glass window, closing my eyes for a few minutes until we reach the school.

The bus finally stops in front of the high school, all of us jumping out of our seats and pushing our way out, elbows flying into faces. Someone pushes me, making me fall on the floor of the bus.

"Fag!" I hear someone yell, while shoving their way out of the coach.

I pick myself up and step off the bus, heading directly into the school building since I have no friends and ignoring the comment made to me in the vehicul. I sit down outside the classroom, resting my head against the wall while trying to calm the pounding headache that sprung up after my fall in the bus. I clutch my side, as, all of a sudden, the huge purple bruises caused by one of the many beatings that I got last night from my dad starts throbbing painfully.

I stand up as the teacher arrives, heading into the math class. I hate math, I can't concentrate long enough to understand it properly. I have enough problems at home without having to deal with extra ones in a math exercise. None of it makes sense anyway, it's just all a jumbled mess of numbers, letters and stuff.

I sit through the hour, bored as ever, daydreaming about a world with no hate, just peace. Where everybody takes care of themselves and doesn't have to worry about anything or anybody else. I wish everyone could just live together happily and love one another.