Fear Fear

I opened my eyes, disturbed from my sleep from the throbbing pain that did not seem like

it would ever cease. It was as if someone were rhythmically swinging a hammer against my head

as hard as possible. I woke up. I thought to myself. Yes, I woke up. Another day has started. How

taxing. Right at the moment that my brain somewhat gathered its recognition, a strong odor hit

me in the face. This pungent, unbearable smell of cat feces could not be mistaken for anything

else. The stench reminded me to change the litter for my cats. I couldn't recall the last time I had

done so. It took me a few minutes to register the hazy surroundings to my mind. The state of my

room caught my eyes - it was messy with clothes hanging around the bed frame, paper tissues

and wrappers scattered on the floor. Looking down at myself, I was not any better: tear-stained

pajamas that I wasn’t sure how long I had worn without a change, a tangled mess of long, coarse,

and oily hair that almost formed into locks, skin so dehydrated that it could break out of those

chapped cracks whenever it pleased.

Propping myself up by the elbow, I searched for the clock hanging on the wall, squinted

my eyes to look at the time, for even turning on the light would be a tad too cumbersome of a

task for me to handle. “What time is it now? Ah, 6:05 am.” I woke up just in time for school.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I laid back down, staring into the dark ceiling. I counted every tik-tok

of the clock as each second came by. As if if I tried hard enough, I could stop the time and

dissipate into the void. No matter how much I dreamt of it, those were just wishful thoughts.

Nothing would ever be that easy.

It had been too long since I last attended classes. Several warnings had been given out

with each absence that had been marked in my record; however, the ultimatum that had come the

week before left me with no choice but to return to school: expulsion would be enforced if this
continued to go on any further. I dragged my feet across the wooden, cold-to-the-touch floor to

create momentum, hoping that it could somehow motivate me to get going; but it had never done

so, why would there be any different this time. Can this ever change?, I wondered, Will this go

on forever?.

As I stepped out of the door, I wrapped my arms around me, gently stroked them to brace

myself for what was to come. The sensation of the follicles contracting made my hair stand up.

The growing pit in my stomach that never seemed to cease was overtaking all thoughts in me.

With a soothing circular motion on my chest, I tried to control the urge to throw up all the mucus

and all that disgusting, burning acid that was hovering over my throat, waiting to spill out just

any moment. Once the school’s gate was within my view, my palms started sweating, my

heartbeat became irregular with each toss and turn that my nervous system made.

A group of classmates could be seen out of the corner of my eyes. They were laughing

and pointing. No, it can’t be. It’s just my mind playing with me. My knuckles slowly turned white

as I gripped the hem of my wrinkled shirt tightly, as if it were my lifeline. They are not talking

about me. THEY ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT ME. Despite the desperate attempt to pacify

myself, I could hear “it” threateningly whisper to me, “Just give up, just run away like you

always did. Why are you even trying? Go ahead and become the spectacle for the crowd.” I

hated that it was right: how I wished I could be within the safety of my home, or how I would

end up tearily on the phone missing my mother with each step they took towards this direction.

“Hey, you are back, finally. Do you feel better now? I was going to visit you.” Thy, one

of the girls in the group, asked me when they finally reached me. Lie. I thought to myself. Bunch

of liars, none of you bothered to check on me, why are you getting all chummy now?. But being

the pathetic coward that I was, I of course gave them a reassuring smile. “Yes, my doctor
approved of my condition now. Thank you for asking.” Linh, another one of those I have never

liked, replied to me: “Thank heaven, you’re okay, we all are so worried about you.” As soon as I

heard what came out of her lips, I could feel another surge of liquid traveling up my throat with

what I thought was mocking. No, this can’t be happening right now, I came a long way for this,

don’t let everything come back to a square one. “Yes, I am feeling better now, I can’t possibly

miss the class trip next month.” That bit of dialog managed to drain all of my energy. Fatigue hit

faster than I had felt in weeks: out-of-breath, shaky voice even when I was just standing,

thoughts jumbled together, visions turned bleak, the tip of my fingers got number and number by

the second. Fortunately, they quickly moved on to another topic as soon as their duty as my

“friends” are done.

The first step into the classroom already filled me with dread. Eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes.

Terrifying could not even begin to describe the state my mind was in. All eyes were on me. Pity,

mocking, indifference, etc. could be felt from their gazes, each has its own intent. However, I

could tell what they all had in common at that moment: those preying eyes observed each and

every movement that I made closely like hawks, waiting for any mistake to prey on. I calmed

myself down. At least the class will start in a few minutes, it won’t be long, hang on until then

and everything will turn all right.

An announcement came on: “Ding dong, lectures start now, students proceed to your

designated classroom”. It’s over, please let the teachers arrive quickly. A teacher entered the

class, but it seemed that nothing worked out for me. Mrs. Luc, the first-period teacher, pointed at

me and said: “Ms. Nguyen, you finally came to class, huh? How is your vacation?”. I was

stunned, frozen in shock. The question “what to do now?” repeated in my head for what felt like

an eternity when she let out a chuckle. “Just kidding, you can sit down now. Class, turn to
page...” She said. Cruel. How can you do this to me? It set me on edge for the remaining

morning.

Every single teacher who entered the classroom after Mrs. Luc paid a little too much

attention - or shall I say, scrutiny - for my comfort. Only after a morning, I was completely burnt

out, too exhausted to even think. I gave up. I could no longer keep up with this. I fished out my

phone, dialed my mother to make an excuse, then headed out when lunch hour came. How funny,

they were all worried about me earlier, but now not even one has noticed that I am gone. No one

bats an eye to me now that their friendship acts are over. I chuckled to myself: “I fail once

again.” Drip, drip. I felt something on the crown of my head. Looking up, the sky had already

darkened, clouds had fully covered the sun that once shined so brightly, the rain was going to fall

at any moment. Am I so pathetic that you are crying for me as well?

I feared fear. There was no bigger foe that I was afraid of more than fear itself. Just

thinking of it triggered the anxiety within me. The uncertainty of what was to come gave chills to

my bones. What kind of storm would come? Could I handle it? If I couldn’t, what would your

loved ones think when they witness the failure that you have become? Now, how could I handle

that? Those questions would forever haunt my mind, and would remain unanswered until I was

ready to let go of this uneasiness that lingered in the background of whatever I did, preparing for

unfortunates to strike upon.