Touchy

Chapter 1

This is my first book that I'm sharing with any and everyone to read so please don't go too harshly on me as it's taken me a while to be able to share my work with others so I'm having trust and faith in you. I'm also 18 so although I may be young, I hope this satisfies you regardless. After all, age shouldn't define anything or lack of ability. Some people are born with the ability and I'd like to hope I'm able to create a decent book despite my age, so please enjoy. 

The beeping of my alarm drones into my head like a headache, informing me it's seven am. Seven in the morning, a Monday – the first day back at school after Easter. Urgh. These past two weeks have been more calming to my nerves than the past six. The therapy of being away from the old building and the aggravating students was just starting to sink in. Now, I have to return to the hellish conditions. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't my last year, meaning the start of exams, which are only a month away. Everything's come around too quickly.

Think of the three month summer holiday, my mum's overly enthusiastic voice echoes in my mind. College is just around the corner; a fresh start for you. That's another one of her uplifting phrases, or one that's meant to spread the positivity through me. Sometimes they work, but unfortunately sometimes they don't. I'm grateful she says them to me as I love my mum; I just wish I could be truthful to her more often. Lying that it works is one of the guiltiest things I tell her, even when dad asks how I am. I hate being deceitful towards them, it's just that it's easier to lie at times. They worry over me and I don't want them to have to stress about anything unnecessary.

Begrudgingly, I slap my alarm till it shuts up. Stretching out in my bed wakes my limbs up a little before I sluggishly peel the covers from my body. The first thing I do when I sit up is examine my hands. It's become wired into my routine. It's something I do so constantly that I don't even process I'm doing it from time to time. That's probably really sorrowful to admit.

Self consciously, I turn over my hands so I can see my palms. There's no need to turn a light on as natural sunlight seeps through my curtains more than enough for me to see that the skin there isn't half that bad. Before I go to sleep at night, I tend to apply some cream to my hands in a bid to help prevent any blistering on the surface of my skin. Some days my fingers look grotesque, as if I've burnt a layer of skin off in patches, two layers occasionally. Thankfully, today, the damage is minimal.

Picking up my body, I wander into the empty bathroom, from across my bedroom, still half asleep. Without full coordination of my brain, I somehow manage to turn on the shower and get in whilst the water's hot enough. Miraculously, the water hitting my body seems to spike a charge deep within me as if the colourless liquid is caffeine boosted and is being absorbed into my bloodstream. All my senses start to perk up as if I've already had a few cups of coffee.

Ten minutes later, I dry off. Stalking back into my room, I find my wardrobe and my disgusting school uniform to wear. Who decided that ties and blazers were a good thing for teenagers to dress in? The credit I'll give my uniform is that I can accompany the navy uniform with trousers, despite them being a deep grey. Skirts aren't the only thing us girls can wear, which I'm pleased with as I can keep my legs hidden securely. That and tights can be itchy, scratching off another layer of skin I'd rather it not take off – if I were to wear them with a skirt, which I would never. I'm not a skirt wearing girl and I never will be, end of.