Cement Rest

She paced in the small quarters of her home where the fragrance of chamomile tea filled the anxious air.

As usual, Chloe Strickland was biting her nails to the nub, pushing and pulling her amber straight hair in a million different directions, and wiping away the tears that crowded her close emerald eyes. Her anxiety was getting away with her, and it seemed the pills weren't working. Of course, from the looks of the heavy layer of dust sitting on her prescription drugs, Chloe hadn't even tried to take the medication within the last week, or so. Her therapist, Mrs. Fritz, definitely would not approve of Chloe's reckless behavior. Those pills were prescribed to help Chloe overcome her anxiety and help gain control from her identified Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

Chloe has lived with OCD her entire life. Every waking moment it pulled her like a puppet on strings, and Chloe never understood why. Her family rarely cared what it was or what it meant, they just wanted her to "get better". Chloe hated herself for being the way she was and hated that she would never truly be accepted.

During the difficult times of her adolescent life when she gained and lost two stepfathers in the span of ten years, Chloe found herself the eldest of two younger step sisters and a step baby brother. Her mother had high expectations for Chloe, being the oldest and all. She pushed Chloe and that made her daughter work harder to be acknowledged by every person she came in contact with.

"Not everyone has to like you, Ms. Strickland," Mrs. Fritz said at one of Chloe's therapy sessions, not too long ago. Chloe knew this and strived to believe it, but she was a grain of sand, caught in the undertow of the crashing waves of OCD.

Deep breaths, rang Chloe's thoughts as she came to a halt in her pacing. Deep breaths. As her stomach wailed from hunger, Chloe ignored it and kept at work with scheduling her first Semester. She was going to be a full-time student so a job wouldn't be able to fit in the mix of her scheduling. On top of her classes and homework, her track team will be meeting up to three times a week.

Chloe reached for her ocean blue mug that was filled with chamomile tea and brought it close to her short turn up nose. The scent of sweetness and apple somehow removed the stress from her spinning mind. Before taking a sip of the hot drink, she held the mug with both hands and slowly made her way to the glass window where the scenery granted peace.

Green trees were higher than the mountains, in her eyes, and the grass was cut cleanly. The birds flew past the window multiple times, back and forth, as if putting on a show for her. She giggled and allowed the gold liquid to touch her lips and make its way down her throat. The warm sensation sent her nerves calming and her thoughts still. Somehow, Chloe was able to take a minute and allow the beauty of nature to perform.

I need a break, she silently thought. Mid-day had already passed and the sunlight was descending behind the thin clouds that were displaying a beautiful work of art that Chloe thought to be perfection. She smiled and took a few more sips of her sweet apple crisp tea before leaving the small study room to change out of her plain white t-shirt and spring yellow pants.

Chloe had changed into some black leggings that she had to roll up, revealing her honey skin, and slipped on a low cut tank top that was a similar color to her jeans that were now neatly folded back in her drawers. Over that she put on a thin hoodie that fit her seemingly.

After putting on her favorite clean black tennis shoes, she ran her long fingers through her straight hair and delicately placed it in a perfect bun, after doing so five times until she was satisfied. The amber colors pulled up allowed her mixed skin to pop along with her green eyes.

Excitement shoots through her bones as she begins stretching. Running had always been Chloe's outlet for her "sickness". Her Aunt Kelly, or how younger Chloe used to exclaim "Auntie Kelly", taught her how to push through her anxiety and controlling disorder through exercise. Running had always seemed to be the best option. Getting Chloe's blood pumping, heart racing, and feet moving somehow did the trick, every time.