Chapter one:
a/n: Hi y'all. It's me Emmabeth. I hope you like this fan fic. Please review and let me know if you want this to continue. So…. Yeah. Enjoy chapter one. P.S. I got the ideas used in this fan fic from Every Last Word. It was recommended by our school, and I recommend it to you. Just so you know that the ideas in this weren't entirely my own. So… Let's do this thing.
Disclaimer: do I have kids? No? Then my name is not Stephenie Meyer, and therefore, I do not own Twilight.
Chapter one:
OCD
I have OCD. I have anxiety. I am depressed.
I had to write a report for English before I moved, so I wouldn't be the odd one out while everyone else was presenting. And the guy I've been obsessing about the past few days is in my English class. I get up and go to the front. I'm flat out shaking, and it's not pretty.
I unfold the paper, and all the dark thoughts come rushing in. My breathing picks up, and my face drains of all color. The world spins, and I feel the beginnings of a panic attack. But unlike when I usually have one, I can't flee.
I suck in air, and spit it out. I can't breathe. My knees buckle, and I grab the edge of the podium for support.
"I… can't… breathe." The sentence from my lips, but I can't hear it.
I turn, shoving through the rows of desks to the door, and rip it open, running out, clutching the paper and my backpack to my chest.
The tears start. Damm it. Isabella, get control. You are in control. Breathe.
One. Breathe. Two. Breathe. Three. Breathe. Four. Breathe. Five. Breathe. Breathe. You are in control. You are in control.
I run out into the sunlight and across the campus to the autotorium. I switch to saying the montras out loud.
"One. Breathe. Two. Breathe. Three. Breathe. Four. Breathe. Five. Breathe. Breathe B. you are in control. This is nothing. You are in control of it; it is not in control of you. You are in control."
They're not working like they should. That scares the crap out of me. My breathing becomes more and more labored, and I run through the autotorium like my life depends on it. I pull down a seat, and sit, pulling my knees up to my chest and putting my head between them.
I start flat out sobbing. I let it all wear off. Let it go. Stop obsessing. The tears keep falling.
OCd. That's what I have. That's who I am. And I can't shake it.
a/n: How was it? I'm sure that probably sucked, but I hope it was okay. Just so you know, B is a nickname Melissa gave Bella. You'll see what I'm talking about later. See ya!
Emmabeth.