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Finley's P.O.V.

I'm in the middle of class and I felt a panic attack coming on. Why, I'm not sure. I'm not even doing anything taxing or weird. Maybe it's because I'm around people.... I grabbed my bag and shoved everything on my desk into it, trying to get outside the classroom before I start to freak out. I didn't even wait for permission; I just bolted from the room and tried to get to the bathroom.

I never made it.

I started wheezing and I stopped, clutching at my chest as I tried to get air in my lungs. I staggered to the side of the hallway with the lockers and I leaned against one, trying to calm down. I couldn't. I was gasping and I felt light-headed and I couldn't breathe. I clutched at my bag, just for something concrete to hold onto.

Finally, my breathing slowed and I could actually retain some oxygen. I'm pretty sure my face was purple and my hair was a disheveled mess. I swallowed hard, feeling that my throat was dry and I headed over to the water fountain. I gulped down some water and splashed some onto my face, trying to regain my composure. I heard a noise from the hallway, a squeak of a shoe against the tiled floor. I glanced up and saw no one. I looked to my left and didn't see anyone either.

I grabbed my bag and went back to class, hoping if I dawdled long enough the bell would ring and I wouldn't have to endure the stares, which usually led to another panic attack. Unfortunately, my wishes were not granted and I have to reenter my classroom. I took a deep breath before pushing the door open and striding in, trying to act confident.

That act quickly crumbled when I saw everyone staring at me. I tried to turtle into my hoodie but it didn't work. I took my seat and kept my eyes down as I heard whispers going on.

"Finley, why did you suddenly leave?" the teacher asked sternly.

"I-I needed to g-go to the b-bathroom," I stuttered nervously.

"Next time, ask," the teacher said and turned back to the board.

I swallowed hard and tried to focus on the lesson, but I couldn't. All I could focus on were the accusing stares burning into my back. All I wanted was to go home where the attacks weren't as frequent and I didn't get attention drawn to me for them.

It's not like I have a social disorder, it's quite the opposite really. I just get anxiety attacks if there are too many people looking at me, or if I'm upset or stressed out. I can talk to people; I just stutter and don't talk much.

There's a difference.

The bell rang-thank God- and I leaped out of my chair and headed for my locker, simply wishing to die from embarrassment when people looked at me and muttered about how much of a freak I am.

I tried to ignore it, but it got harder. I took deep breaths as I walked, trying to keep myself calm from another anxiety attack. I must have a disease or something, because no one can get that many anxiety attacks and just be normal.

Good thing no one is normal.

I finally found my locker and put in my combination, pulling the lock off and putting some books in and exchanging them for others. As I'm turning around to go to my next class, books clutched to my chest, someone bumped into me and sent my books flying. To my surprise, they actually stopped and picked them up and handed to me.

"Sorry," he said his voice low and oh God it was sexy.

"N-No it's okay," I said mentally cursing myself for stuttering in front of a hot guy.

"Its fine," the boy's bright green eyes flicked down to my hands, where I'm holding my books. "And I saw you earlier."

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