A/N: Hey, guys. Man, I'm beat, no thanks to school stress. I don't know how I'm ever going to get rid of it. But, I'm getting a handle on it at any rate. So, here's the first of two chapters I'm going to update this weekend. I'm putting up chapter 8 tomorrow, because I'm tired of updating this fic all the time. Especially considering I have other stories.

Disclaimer: I don't own KH.


Chapter 7: 4:43 PM

Utterly miserable, Olette pushes grocery carts out onto the parking lot as part of her job. Normally, she works at the deli in the Whole Foods store, usually helping the older lady make sandwiches and things like that. It's not much when it comes to actual work, but it does pay $7.5o an hour, so she's not complaining. What sets her on edge today—eats her up inside—is what happened with Riku. His beautiful eyes looked blank when they stared at her, as though he guessed correctly that she slowly loses her mind. On a crappy day like this, that process speeds up like pressing the fast forward button on her life. How come he doesn't like her? Well, the answer is simple enough. Number one, they are near strangers. Number two...well, look at her.

Even with the rare make-up she has worn for particularly special occasions, Olette feels insecure about her outward appearance. What's more, she keeps being in this struggle over whether she is truly a good person or not. She has faced so many roadblocks in the past in trying to be more social and outgoing, to be less like the introverted, straight-A student. At times, she has lost patience with people to the point they never forgive her. Some friends from long ago have been lost due to such petty fights.

Nobody is perfect, she attempts to reassure herself, but she is the most flawed.

It is difficult to explain to herself exactly why she has such strongly mixed emotions about her self-perception and the desire to belong just as much as anybody. To belong is to conform. Isn't that a bad thing? Still, why has she become increasingly insecure over what she is in life? It should be no big deal, and besides, it isn't the end of the world if her crush doesn't like her.

Then, why is she feeling this way? Why is everything going wrong?

Panicked, Olette releases the grocery carts to their proper area while she pants frantically and runs her hands through her hair. This hasn't just been about Riku, has it? The constants in her life seem so up in the air: the friendship she has with her friends, the relationship with her parents, school, job, acceptance, fears...

"No, no," she mutters to herself, shaking her head back and forth, back and forth, and her hands quivering. "I'm getting too worked-up...being silly..."

Deep down, she highly doubts that randomly snapping at her best friend over a stupid thing like radio can be considered being silly. A psychologist would call it a symptom of depression, she was sure of it. But...but, she had to be perfect! Why did it never seem like it was enough? Blindly, practically tripping over her own feet in the process, Olette sprints back toward the Whole Foods store. It's official. In the past twelve hours, she has managed to turn discomfort into full-fledged phobia. What the phobia is remains to be seen.

It is everything swarming her, threatening to suffocate her if she does not break the surface for air once in a while. Her breathing hitches in her throat, and she has developed a horrific side-stitch near her ribs. Inhaling and exhaling is getting to be no easy task. In fact, it's downright unbearable.

People exit the store without stopping to notice the harshly panting girl with buckling knees. It's that damn human nature again. No common kindness, just the whole "ignorance is bliss" theory. Now, Olette wonders if there ever was a time when people helping each other out was a daily reality.

Courtesy does not exist, and maybe in the past century, it has transformed into something evanescent. Colors blur. People are smudges. Was that overly glaring sun ever as bright as it is, currently?

OK, Olette, deep breath. One, two, three...In, out...One, two, three...In, out...

Her panic attack has successfully subsided, though she is left with something that she wishes she isn't carrying. It isn't something physically palpable that can be seen or touched. Inevitably, it has returned with a vengeance. The empty space, the abysmal black hole that swirls perpetually inside her chest. She senses her stomach churning with the sickened feeling that this is indeed real.

She doubts that she can recover from whatever it is that torments her soul and breaks her heart bit by bit. All she knows as she staggers back to Whole Foods is that she has got to get back to work. If she doesn't concentrate well enough on her after school job, there may well be the possibility of her getting fired. Kiss her sorry haunted ass goodbye, really. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe crazy people don't deserve employment, or they'll become the psycho killers of tomorrow because work would serve as research for them. It would be the standard stuff like human weaknesses and what makes them tick. Olette shakes all this off, far too aware on how dark this content is in her mind and how she is eventually losing her grip on reality. She needs to maintain balance and peace.

There, she arrives back at the deli counter, where she most likely will not suffer from another panic attack. And that's the disturbing part, isn't it? Throughout all her life, she has managed to stay cool, calm, and collected in public. Always. So, clearly, this is the one day she can't find her inner tranquility and comes up with panic instead. Is her day honestly going that badly? No answer is required for this question. It is blunt enough that surely anybody would agree. Yes. Yes, it is, and she can hardly stand it. The very least that she is grateful for is that she can breathe evenly again.

When the lady who works the same shift as her asks her what took so long, she coolly responds that there had been one cart with a wobbly wheel. Of course, this is a lie, but it's a way better alternative than telling the truth. Olette resolves to keep her emotions that can run quite rampantly (her blood pressure is probably still higher than the norm) at bay. Customers actually do stop at the deli section frequently, and she's prepared to give them her sweet high school girl smile. The normal smile that says, "Hi, I have a 3.8 GPA and a promising future."

However, it seems to her that the promising future eludes her, taunting her with hopes and dreams that can never come true. The only ones that would be real would be the broken heart-shaped clocks. Time doesn't stop, even for broken hearts. It just keeps going.

After another pointless afternoon of putting together sub sandwiches and selling other deli products, Olette walks out of the store in a more placid manner. Well, seemingly. She isn't reverting back to a state of too much anxiety with trembling knees and gasping breath. But, she isn't necessarily leaping from tall buildings out of a desire to be carefree and doing backflips for joy either. Her feelings are increasingly mixed, what with her day being as rotten as it has been. It has gone as low as she had ever dared or willed it to go. Absolutely everything—the middle of the week tends to do that to most people anyway.

Hmph, it figures that her day would be on a whole different level, what with being treated like a computer, romantic rejection, randomly snapping at someone who didn't deserve it by any means, and bad dreams. Not even the radio consoles her on the way home. Olette doesn't remember ever being this unhappy to this extent with the music that's playing. She figures that music is supposed to be used whether you're happy or sad. It's supposed to heal. Well, if it helps people do that, why does she not feel the affects as well?

Perhaps she is beyond any form of help now, unreachable to the point that she cannot be touched. Minutes tick by, and she could waste entire hours of her life for all she cares. When she gets home, it won't exactly be pleasant. The routine goes a little something like this: awkward dinner, retreat to room, hear parents argue sometimes while struggling to do homework, watch TV or listen to music or something loud, and then go to bed. It is almost the typical evening for a high school student, except for the shouting parents part. Then again, it's the 21st century, the golden age of divorce. Getting divorced is nearly as common as cancer these days. Olette knows that to be fitting, because divorce is a poison. It sucks the life out of everything.


A/N: Yeah, considering nothing else noteworthy really happens in this chapter, I just went for the whole "nervous breakdown" thing. Written on the acutal night I had an actual nervous breakdown. So, there you go. XD

Well, I gotta get going now. I gotta work on this long English assignment due Monday, since my English teacher is an asshole. Goodbye!