𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 | billie eilish

018

wednesday - december 30, 2020

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧
𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒, 𝟏𝟐:𝟓𝟗𝐩𝐦
𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬

"Please finish your homework over the weekend, I'm collecting it on Tuesday next week," my psychology teacher, Mrs. Bloom, speaks authentically.

She's the only person to carry out her job with real passion, every other adult in this school is constantly bothered by anything surrounding them.

As the bell rings, her brown eyes align her frame of vision with mine and she quickly darts a glance toward the door, motioning me to leave the classroom behind her and sit in her office just like every once in a while.

Yawning and with my energy at its possibly lowest level, I heave myself off my chair and follow her orders without any kind of hesitation.

Once I rose from my seat, I'm plagued by a black vision and a dull hearing for several seconds, however, I play it off rather rapidly.

I haven't had a proper meal in the past five days, solely due to the unbearable nausea that entirely took over my stomach, which, in turn, is the result of my excessive worrying.

Savanna's condition is progressively exacerbating.

Thankfully, I was by her side on Monday when she collapsed beside the kitchen counter.

If I hadn't been present in that moment, she would have been at a high risk of getting severely injured.

Her physical strength and stability are doubtful, yet she chose to leave for work today.

My thoughts have been racing ever since the time I closed the front door behind me this morning. Only then I became aware of the fact that she has to manage this day on her own.

There's something inside my head compelling me to believe that everything's going to go wrong today. It's my anxiety talking and peaking.

My heart is pounding in my chest as Mrs. Bloom sits me down across from her.

"You weren't at school on Monday, and compared to last week, you've gotten noticeably jumpy and shaky," she points out the physical symptoms I developed within a matter of a few days. "Did something happen that's weighing down on you?"

A cold shudder creeps down my spine as her words force me to recall the horrific situation I experienced a couple days ago.

"It's 'cause of my mom, but I don't wanna talk about it," I return candidly, fidgeting my fingers beneath the table and focusing on everything but her loving eyes while talking.

"That's okay. You don't have to," she soothes my discomfort in an instant. "Just in case something happens, know that you can reach out to me at any time of the day."

A subtle physical gesture is the replacement for a verbal response for my part.

"Maybe Billie's also an option. I'm pretty sure she's a person who can keep secrets," my psychology teacher adds thereupon.

"I don't think so,"  I mumble incomprehensibly as I'm subconsciously biting the inside of my cheek.

"Give her a chance, Ella," she begs softly. "It doesn't have to be two, just one chance. I think she's also desperate for getting to know other people."