“Yeah. Will do,” I reply, more out of obligation than anything else.
When I hang up, the silence of the stairwell wraps around me, but the stiffness in my chest doesn’t let up. I shove my phone back into my pocket, running a hand over my face, frustrated. How do I even begin to fix this?
The semester’s just started, and it feels like everything’s already piling on my to-do list. New school. New team. Family problems. Perfect timing, as always.
Chapter 6
Alli
The clock on my nightstand blinks 11:00 p.m., the bright numbers mocking me. I roll onto my side for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find a position that feels like anything but restlessness. My sheets tangle around my legs, an uncomfortable reminder of how much sleep I’m not getting. I throw a hand over my face and sigh, but it does nothing to quiet the mayhem spinning through my mind.
Why does it feel like everything’s piling up at once? Why does it all feelsooverwhelming all of a sudden?
I glance at my phone, nothing new there. Just the usual notifications, but none of them are enough to distract me. I have a ton of reading to catch up on, but the thought of it makes my head spin. Or maybe I could start on the new puzzle Evelyn sent me?
The homesickness is hitting me harder tonight. It’s not just missing home, it’s the constant feeling of being out of place that’s damaging me. The new environment, the endless assignments, and the pressure to keep up are making everything feel even more turbulent.
I grab my phone and open the Notes app, jotting down some thoughts. It helps to get things out of my head, even if they’re just random jumbled sentences. The words come out fast, laced with frustration and confusion. Somewhere in the middle of it, I realize I’m sinking, just barely keeping my head above water, trying not to drown.
The apartment feels too quiet, yet my thoughts are screaming bloody murder.
I throw the covers back and swing my legs off the bed, the cold floor instantly grounding me. I pace the length of my room, back and forth, back and forth, repeating the same comforting lie to myself: tomorrow will be better, I just need to survive tonight.
I stop by the window, glancing out as a soft breeze stirs the trees. One of the few perks of going to school by the coast—there’s always a beach close by. I picture the waves crashing under the moonlight, that kind of calm I haven’t felt in a while. I grab a jacket and slip on my sneakers, moving quietly so I don’t wake Olivia.
The cool night air is a welcome change from the anxiety that’s been suffocating me. I step outside, the salty breeze feels refreshing against my skin.
The beach is basically a ghost town at this hour, with only the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional call of a seabird. The moonlight dances on the water, casting a white glow across the sand. I take a deep breath, trying to let the quietness of the scene calm me down. I keep telling myself it’s just a rough day, but the tightness in my chest and the pounding in my temples won’t let up. I try to slow my breathing, but it feels like I’m just making things worse.
I keep walking, hoping the fresh air and the sound of the waves will help, but the anxiety feels relentless. Each step feels heavier than the last, and I find myself clutching my arms tightly, trying to ground myself. The sand beneath my feet starts to feel like quicksand. I look up at the stars, trying to focus on something other than the spiraling thoughts in my head.
My heart races, and my breaths come in quick, uneven bursts. The beach, usually a place of calm, now feels like a reminder of how out of control I am. I sit down on a nearby bench by the pier, trying to catch my breath and calm the pounding in my chest. I close my eyes and try to focus on the sound of the waves, but I’m drowning.
Think of five things.
I’m at the beach.
I feel the sand.
I smell the ocean water.
I feel the bench.
I hear the waves against the coast.
“Alli?”
My chest heaves up and down wickedly. I barely turn my head because I know who it is, but I don’t want to believe it. I don’t need anyone seeing me like this.
“Go away, Jared.”
He stands there, still as ever. “Are you okay?”
I bite my lip, trying to hold everything back, but it doesn’t work. The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Just leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that,” he says quietly, taking a seat on the bench beside me. “Not when you’re like this.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my anxiety to subside. “I don’t need your help.”
