The Runt of the Litter

Chaos as Therapy

Note: Thank you, as always, for all your reads, votes, and comments. I will never tire of seeing responses to this story.

I leave for college in less than two weeks, so things are about to get really busy and crazy for me. Have no fear: I am by no means going to stop posting. I plan to keep up the weekly updates on Saturdays, but I cannot make any guarantees. This is my first year at college and I'm not sure what I'll have for free time, especially during orientation. I will let you know ahead of time if I can't maintain weekly updates, but I sincerely hope that I can continue posting every Saturday while at school.

For now, this chapter is a combination of very sad and very fun. At least, that's how writing it felt. It also turned out REALLY LONG, but I really didn't want to break it into two parts, so I didn't. Anna is sixteen (and such a rebel ). Note that there is some very bad language in this chapter, so if that bothers you, here's your warning.

New Note: I did a bunch of revising on this today, so if anybody got an update notification, that's why. 

Chaos as Therapy

She woke on top of a textbook, pencil eraser jammed against her cheek and surely leaving red indents in its wake as she slowly lifted her head. Her neck cracked with every centimeter of movement, and her elbow popped three times as she flung an arm sideways to find her phone a few inches from the textbook.

It had been one of those nights where the homework was positively endless and unconquerable. She'd made it to her last assignment and, apparently, fallen asleep halfway through it. As she checked her phone with a stomach full of dread and a brain full of fog, Anna yawned. 5:40am, and she felt like she'd barely closed her eyes. Last assignment, she barely recalled telling Sam when she started these notes at two o'clock and he urged her to just go to bed. I'll be done in, like, twenty minutes. Then I'll sleep. Except, twenty minutes worth of work quickly becomes an hour of work when it's two o'clock in the morning. So she'd fallen asleep before finishing the notes, slept for three hours, give or take. Now, she had about two hours to finish the work and get ready for school, and falling back asleep would surely mean not waking up until too late.

She ran a hand through her messy, limp curls and her lip curled in disgust. "I need a shower," she said to nobody and then groaned at the thought of walking to the bathroom and actually taking a shower. It would all take so much effort. She would have to, like, move and stuff.

With a heartfelt sigh, Anna peeled herself away from the chair she'd slept in and squinted at the papers on the table. She couldn't even read, she was so tired. It would help if the entire week hadn't been like this.

Monday, it had been a History paper due at midnight, one that Anna had forgotten about all weekend because she had been busy tagging along for a salt and burn the boys caught wind of a few hours away. But really, who makes papers due Monday night anyway? Tuesday, it had been a collection of math papers and a test that needed fixing up because Anna just could not seem to get graphing rational functions down, and Sam was so tired all the time that asking him for math help seemed like it would be burdensome? Wednesday, there had been a slight break in the homework department-- just the usual math sheet, reading assignment, and lab report-- but there had been a mess of drama between Mila and this really wealthy girl in their English class who Anna had met, like, once. Somehow, Mila had implicated both Anna and Kate into an argument over some rumor that had been spread over the first two days of the week. Yesterday had included an onslaught of continued drama during the school day, then an infinite collection of homework assignments. Not one night this week had Anna gotten more than four hours of sleep, and she was feeling it.

Still, her hair wouldn't wash itself, and her psychology notes wouldn't write themselves, and Anna would be damned if she left the house without just about five cups of coffee in her system. So, she got moving, even if she already had a feeling deep in her gut that this Friday was going to be the death of her.