I see the door handle move and within the split of a second, I've jumped up from sitting the floor and slammed the cabinet door shut. As she opens the door, I reach for my anxiety medication and grab it so she can't read the label on it.
Too much movement after just throwing up. Panting, I lean against the wall. Olivia looks at me, with a rather confused look on her face.
"I thought I heard you throw up."
"Yeah... migraines do that. Sorry you had to hear that"
I gag, almost throwing up again. This is my worst anxiety attack in a while.
Bright idea to send me to college. That worked out well.
"You should lie down."
"Yeah, I'll just... take my meds."
"Okay. Can I... do anything for you?"
"Uh..."
If she watches you take that pill she might spot the label on the bottle. Say something, Jinx, quick!
"Uhm, top right shelf next to the fridge... that's where I keep my tea. If you could make me a cup, that'd be great."
"Sure thing."
She smiles at me for a second before she wanders off to the kitchen.
"Peppermint, please!", I call after her.
I take a few deep breaths, but I still feel sick. I vomit one more time before I can finally take my pill. Drained from all my strength, I shuffle into my bedroom and fall onto my bed, wrapping myself in all the blankets.
I feel like absolute shit.
"Hannah?"
A light tap on my shoulder.
"Your tea."
I sit up, and with shaking hands, I reach for the cup.
"Thanks," I mumble, taking a first sip.
"I'm sorry your first day went like this. Anxiety is a bitch, huh?"
I freeze.
"Oh, excuse me, I mean migraines, of course."
She smiles at me, and winks. I don't respond, but somehow force myself to smile back.
"It's okay, really. We all have our issues, don't we?"
I look at her, expecting that innocent, calming smile of hers, but her face is... blank.
I open my mouth to say something, but she interrupts me.
"I'll get back to class. You get some rest. I'll be there for you tomorrow, and the rest of the week. I remember how scary my first days at college were."
She's smiling again.
Awkwardly, I put my tea down, not knowing if she's expecting a hug or a handshake or something.
But when I look at her, she's standing in the doorway, waving.
"See you tomorrow."
I wave back, watching her leave.
A wave of tiredness hits me as soon as I hear the door to my apartment close. I can't even finish my tea before I pass out.
*
"What. Are. You. Doing. Here."
My eyes fly open. Vi is standing at the foot of my bed, looking as though she's ready to murder me.
"I waited one hour, one hour, to pick you up. Why weren't you at college?!"
"I had an anxiety attack."
"Sure you did."
"I'm not kidding Vi. A classmate drove me home because I had a meltdown. And I puked. Two times."
"A classmate? Who."
She wasn't asking. She was demanding to know who drove me home.
"Her name is Olivia... Olivia Percal, I think."
"I'm going to check that."
"You do that. I'm not lying."
"Anyway, get up. Your therapist wants to know how your first day at college went."
I scoff.
"Tell her it was literally sickening."
"Or you could tell her that yourself. Get the fuck up."
She doesn't believe me. To be expected. I wouldn't believe me either.
Grudgingly, I get up. I'm dizzy, but hey, who cares? Not Vi.
"I don't got all day, hurry up."
Muttering a few insults under my breath, I put on my shoes and grab my keys.
Vi quite literally shoves me out the door, drags me down the stairs and into her car.
She doesn't say anything for the longest time we're in the car, but her whole body is tensed and she's gritting her teeth.
She's about ready to explode.
"Yell at me."
Nothing.
"Come on, yell at me! We both know you want to."
"I don't want to yell at you. I want to shoot you in the face."
"Hey, that's my kinda thing."
Vi hits the brakes so abruptly, two cars behind us start honking.
She stares at me, full of hatred.
The next things happen almost to fast for me to see. She slaps me straight across the face, then strikes again, this time with her fist, hitting my nose.
It hurts. It hurts a lot. Physically as well as mentally. I'm frozen in shock, hot tears streaming down my cheeks and blood dripping from my nose.
"They never should've let you out," she hisses.
She slams her foot on the gas pedal, going what feels like fifty over the speed limit.
I'm still frozen in shock when she stops three minutes later, and pushes me out of the car. I stumble, almost falling.
"I'll be back in an hour," she says.
As she reaches for the passenger side's door, I can see that she has some of my blood on her hand. She slams the door shut and speeds off.
I take my hand away from nose to see that my entire hand is red with blood, it's running down my arm and dripping from my elbow.
Shaking, I sink to the floor and start sobbing.
She's right. She really is. They never should've let me out.
