Evelyn's Lesson In Recovery

Just Beginning

TW: Self harm
A/N My cover is of Evelyn when she's about 19, just in case there was any confusion, the story begins with her at age 11.
I look around my small room and sigh. Why do mornings come so fast? I sit up and hear the sound of my parents yelling in the background. My stomach twists as I realize today is a weekday. My long, curly, copper colored hair is like a frizzy cotton ball on my head. I get out of bed and walk a few steps to my closet. I open it and try to find the right outfit. I want to look like the girls at school, but I know I'll never fit in. I grab a long sleeved shirt with an infinity sign on it and a pair of dark jeans. I look at it carefully and sigh, near tears. This will have to do. I go to the bathroom with my phone. I need music to get woken up and into an okay mood. I pick one of my favorite songs and hit play. MI go back to my room for my brush and makeup. I quickly change and brush my teeth. Now, I have to wrangle my hair. I look at it and my brush. This should be interesting. I start at the ends, carefully brushing and smoothing the dead ends. As I move to the top of my head, I realize I'm ugly. I throw my hair brush across my the bathroom. My hair isn't frizzy anymore, but it's such a noticeable color and everyone will see me. Why can't I be invisible?!
I do my makeup, carefully. If I don't wear makeup, I'm even more afraid at school and everything goes worse than it usually does. I feel a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach and I drop to my knees in front of the toilet. I throw up, emptying my already empty stomach. I slump, exhausted, against the wall as I cry silently. That happens everyday before school and nothing I do makes it go away. I brush my teeth again and finish doing my makeup. I put on my glasses and look into the mirror. I feel a monster deep within take over and I fumble through the cabinet under my sink. I find my blade and I look at my scars. Do I really need more scars to hide? The monster inside decides yes, yes I do need more scars and cuts. I dig it deep into my wrist and pull it across. I stifle a cry and watch the blood form in beads on my wrist. I do that ten more times and wipe away the mess of blood. I wrap my wrist in gauze and tape. I pull my sleeve down and leave the bathroom after hiding everything.
"I'm so ugly!" my brain screams at me. I hold my head and rock slightly. I can't do this anymore!!! I start crying, feeling like there's nothing left to do. I throw my messenger bag across my shoulder and I grab my binder. I stuff it into the bag and wait for my mom to emerge from her room. When she does, she's angry and upset with her boyfriend. I sigh and go to the car. I bite my lip and hope she doesn't see the bandages on my wrist. We live two seconds from my school, so I know that I don't have long to mentally prepare myself for the nightmare I'm about to enter. "Have a good day." my mom says as she pulls into the drop off line. She has no idea how bad the day will be for me. As I get out the principal smiles at me and says "good morning, Evelyn." I blush and try to respond, but I can't. I walk inside, worrying about how I look. "I love your hair." one of the curriculum coaches says. I force myself to smile as I feel the beginning of a panic attack. Everyone is staring at me as I walk, staring at the floor. My breath catches in my throat and I feel tears sting my eyes.
I can't do this anymore!! I hate myself and I can't stop the cycle of anxiety that has held me captive for the past year or so. I duck into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall as I sob silently. My chest hurts as my heart pounds in my throat. I wring my hands as I try to forget the feeling of fear clutching me. I grip my hair and try not to collapse against the wall. I slide down the wall and sit, trying to catch my breath. I touch my mood necklace and see it turn orange, meaning anxiety. I gag and try not to be sick again. I lay my head on my knees as I try to ward off the dizziness and sick feeling that comes with a panic attack.
It takes ten minutes to feel calm enough to leave the bathroom. I wash my hands and splash cool water on my face. My face is red and my eyes are still watery. I take a shaky breath and leave the bathroom. "Good morning, Evelyn." my music teacher says, smiling. I force myself to smile, hoping I've hidden the fact I just had a panic attack well. I walk to class and I take my seat in the back of the room. I begin to sing my favorite song in my head. It helps keep me grounded. "Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing is just a grain of sand." a voice sings in my head. I try to relax, but my teacher is approaching me. "Evelyn, have you done the science homework?" she asks. I silently curse myself. I was so busy trying to block out the screaming of my parents I didn't do my science homework. "Answer me." she urges. I shake my head. "Why not?" she asks. The open ended question sends prickles of anxiety through me. I shrug. She walks away and I put my head on the table. I'm a failure. Nothing I do is ever done right!
The class fills quickly and I'm overwhelmed by the large class size. I keep my head down to hide the tears in my eyes. I try to breathe slowly, but I feel like I'm caught in a rip current and there's no shore to swim parallel to. I gulp and clench my fists. The teacher comes up to me and she puts her hand on my back. "Are you alright?" she asks. I sit up and nod. Her hand on my back increases my anxiety, but I don't comment on it. "Go get a drink of water." she says softly, guiding me towards the door. I go to the water fountain nearby and I take a small sip of water. I take a slow breath and try to stop trembling. I drink more water and wait to calm down. Slowly, I do. I go back to class and see everyone working on the morning work. I hate elementary school so much, but I'm terrified to go to the middle school next year. I start working, easily getting the answers right.
When we go over the work, I put my head down, hoping I'm not called on. My luck couldn't be that good. "Evelyn, what is number two?" the teacher, Ms. Ness, asks. I look up, my face turning red. I shake my head. "Did you do the work?" she asks. I nod. "Tell us what number two is!" she says, her frustration growing. I shake my head and start crying. She moves on and I sit, panicking, in class. "Evelyn, outside, now!" Ms. Ness says. I walk outside and she closes the door behind her. "Evelyn, why haven't you answered any of my questions? You've spoken about two sentences this year and its March. Do you have a problem?" she asks. I shake my head. "Then, you need to participate." she says, allowing me to go back to class. I sit down and stare at the floor.
I stay silent the whole day. I walk home and go into my room. I throw myself onto my bed and I start sobbing. "Why can't I die?" I scream into my pillow as I sob. I'm sick of this fear and I'm sick of trying. I go into the bathroom and I cut again. This time, I don't bandage the cuts, I just escape to my room for the rest of the day. I'm sick of the panic attacks and I'm sick of being terrified, but what choice do I have? I can't talk to anyone and there's no way anything will ever change, even if I did get help for this.