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“You’re not dropping that class.” She places her notebook down and sits forward in her chair, interlocking her hands. “You need to face this head on, it’s the only way that you will get past it.”
My breaths start to get faster at just the thought of going back into that lecture hall and having to face him along with all of the students who saw me freak out.
“But-”
“No,” she interrupts and shakes her head. “Use your counting techniques if you need to.”
I hate how paralyzing my counting in three’s is but here she is telling me to use them when all I want is to not have to rely on them.
I frown, confused by what she’s saying. “You want me to use the counting?”
“If it will help you overcome this particular situation, then yes.”
I avert my eyes and look down at the hole in my jeans, pushing my finger in it and running it around the frayed edge. I can imagine all of their faces as I walk back into the class, what they will all think of me, what they will call me. I don’t want to be labeled or judged, not when I’ve made it this far without being noticed.
Shaking my head, I open my mouth to tell her that I can’t do it.
“You need to take these situations and turn them into a positive,” Anita says. “If you want to feel like you again, you need to take this first step and every step after this will be easier. I know it’s hard to take the first leap but once you’ve done it you will feel the difference.”
It’s hard, so much harder than I ever thought possible. I’ve changed so much over the last year but in other ways, I still feel exactly the same.
I’m still that frightened girl, the one who stared at the same spot on the wall for days, not talking to anyone.
“I want you to keep writing all of your thoughts and feelings in your diary.” I grimace at the thought of writing in that thing and lift up off the couch. “And you know where my office is, I’m always here to talk,” she says, standing up at the same time.
“Okay,” I whisper and keep my head down as I walk to the door and pull it open, putting my headphones on to block out all of the noise.
Throwing my blond hair up into a messy bun, I grab my headphones and shove my feet into my boots not bothering to put any makeup on. Not that I used to wear makeup all the time anyway because we never had any money but the couple of bits I did have were well used, it was my outlet, something that I could do just for me but I haven’t done it in so long. At least not outside of the apartment.
I prefer to go out with nothing on my face now, it makes me invisible.
Waving bye to Jess as I walk out of the apartment, I place my head phones on my head and walk out of the building and across to the campus.
Our apartment is in the perf
ect location, only a five-minute walk to the campus and right next to a grocery store. It’s in a central location and Jess’ dad’s contacts are the only reason why we managed to get such a good place.
I start to walk faster as the sky dims, not wanting to have to walk through the campus in the dark. Having to walk home in the dark after work is bad enough but doing it twice in one day is too much, I can already feel my hands starting to shake.
I hate working the late shift, I only do it once a week but I dread it. Several times I’ve tried to change it but no one wants it and I can’t say anything because I need this job to pay for the apartment.
The only good thing about this time of the day is that there’s hardly anyone around and I can keep my head up instead of having to look down at the ground.
Attending a college like this is something I always wished for but never thought I’d be able to, I can remember dreaming of going to this very one when I was in high school. It was well known for the sports and drama programs but I wasn’t here for any of those, my major was in Social Care. I wanted to be able to help kids that have the same home life that I did; to try and make a difference. So when Elena and Trevor pulled strings to get me in, I was over the moon. They insisted that I got in purely on my own merit but I knew that wasn’t the case.
The whole campus is amazing, with a mix of old, traditional and modern buildings. The cobbled paths and open green spaces with trees dotted around gives the whole place a homely feel.
Pulling open the carved wooden doors to the library, I start to walk up the seven flights of stairs. I like to tell myself that I use the stairs instead of the elevator to get some exercise but deep down I know it’s because I can’t handle being in a confined space.
Once I make it to the seventh floor, I pull my headphones off my head knowing that there’s only two other people who will be in the room and neither of them will bother me. That’s what I love most about this job, I don’t have to worry about talking to people or having meaningless conversations; I’ve always hated small talk. The people that work here are all the same, they just come in, do the work and then leave.
Waving at Angela as I walk to my station, I let my bag drop off my shoulder and start up the computer. Most people would hate this job, inputting data into a computer, but I love the repetitiveness of it. It relaxes me in a way that nothing else ever has.
I know what to expect when I come here, I know the list of items to input will be in the break room waiting for me to collect. I know how long it will take to input a certain amount of entries and most of all, I know no one will approach me.
After grabbing the pile of papers with my name attached to it, I sit down at my desk and start up the program, ready to type away. After doing this job for the last eighteen months, I can now type without even looking at the keyboard.
One hundred entries. I hate that number.
