Disclaimer: I own nothing, just couldn't sleep for a few days and had an idea.
9 chapters, they're all written and unedited. Just go with it, I did.
1. Where Is My Mind?
by Pixies
Unsure of why she did it, Rosalie just kept walking as if nothing happened. She pushed it to the back of her mind and decided not to think about it. Her mind was already spinning with the presentation she was about to give, her palms sweating and her heartbeat present in every corner of her body. Rose did not like attention - just walking down a street made her wonder how many judged her, if she was walking strangely. Which in turn, of course, caused her to almost forget how to walk and her movements to become stilted.
Inhaling deeply through her nose, she held her breath and then blew it out slowly. I can do it, she chanted in her head, her fingers curling around the hem of her favorite t-shirt. She was known for creating her own t-shirts, buying plain black tees and then creating something rare out of them. This one had a motive of a park, horse drawn carriages, vintage clothing - down to the puffy dresses on the women lying in the grass fanning themselves. Dogs and kids playing frisbee, and a big, beautiful old school carousel, she had put extra detail into that one. However, instead of the classic horses with children laughing as it went round and round, were rows of young adults all engrossed in whatever was on their own computer screen.
Going over every detail on her shirt in her mind, she was for a moment pulled out of her nervous thoughts and her breathing became normal.
Which made her frown. Less than a minute ago, she had passed a young man as she walked through the entrance of the art school building. He had been leaning against a wall, like her, entirely donned in black. He was pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes and inhaling deeply as she passed.
"Headache?" She had, uncharacteristically, wondered out loud, barely looking at him. It was merely an observation. Rosalie had never seen his face, just noted the unique color of his wild hair. What would best create such a color on a canvas?
"Yeah," she had heard him groan as her feet carried her about two steps away.
"Well, life sucks."
Then she was gone, and now she was reaching what felt like her doom. She knew she had positive attributes - she wasn't dumb by any means. However, a part of her wondered if anybody knew this. The jumbled, stuttered mess of words that escaped her mouth as she was forced to speak in public made her sound like an idiot.
This time would probably not be any different.