A Million Shattered Pieces

Chapter Sixteen

"You keep a lot to yourself because it's difficult to find people who understand."

Wednesday morning, four days after our relationship became official, we had our reading comprehension final exam for English. The nerves hit me at full force walking into the gymnasium where everyone had to write their test. Rows upon rows of desks scattered throughout the large open space. It wasn't anything new, the tests had always been held here. I went through this feeling of hopelessness every year.

But this time was different. This year, the results would either make or break me. I could not afford to fail a test. Not if I wanted to get into the university I applied for the first week of October. Failing English would destroy me.

Brock seemed to sense my oncoming attack, his fingers slipping between mine. I glanced at him, chest heaving with the labored breaths leaving my mouth. Not now. Please, not right now. To have a breakdown at this moment would make it impossible for me to think straight.

"You've got this," Brock whispered, sympathy reflected in his eyes.

I hated it when people looked at me like that. Like they felt sorry for me, for the panic settling deep inside my body. It wasn't something I could switch off. It would remain with me for the remainder of the exam, lurking in the farthest corners of my mind. The simple task of focusing on the questions would become difficult. I would have a hard time for the entire three hours. My breaths would need to be forced, the doubts in my mind silenced by sheer willpower.

I nodded, the next breath harder than the last. "I'll try my best. Just pray this is over before it gets too much."

"There's no reason to be ashamed, Claire. Anxiety isn't something you can control. I've experienced it, too. You can tell me about it."

No, I could never explain it.

In the past, everyone around me brushed it off as shyness. Or being socially awkward. I could never take the time to tell someone that there were days I didn't want to get out of bed, to face the crowds of people surging through the hallways at school. There were times I had to run from the classroom, locking myself in a bathroom stall for twenty minutes until the fear began to recede. For the past five years, that had been my life. I think this had to have always been buried deep inside. High school had made it worse, come out in ugly bursts at the worst of times, always there, unable to be ignored.

Some sick, twisted part of me envied Brock. Depression could come and go. A person didn't have to constantly deal with it, at least, that's what I assumed. But this...anxiety I had never left. It followed me everywhere. Even when the rational parts of my brain told me this was all temporary, that I fussed over irrelevant matters. Brock was not the only person with demons. We both had them. We both had our own internal battles, just different enemies.

His tormented him to the point of not caring at all. Mine made me care too much.

"Everyone to their assigned seats!" A voice boomed through the speakers, a teacher prowling row after row, microphone clutched in hand. "The tests will begin in less than five minutes."

I looked at Brock, silently begging him for help. He flashed me his signature lopsided grin before taking off toward the section of the gym where the R last names were. I sighed, hands shaky, scanning the walls for the F last names. I ended up sitting beside the redhead whose name I could never remember. She sat in the G last names.

Paper tumbled to the floor when she moved. Cursing, she tried to reach out for it. I picked the pages up for her, finally being reminded of her name.