I sit on the bed, blasting my music and wishing the voices in my head would shut the hell up. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my music up louder. My ears hurt, but that's a small price to pay. I try to focus on the lyrics, but memories float through my head instead.
That time back in middle school when I tried to tell a joke in a presentation, and no one laughed.
That awkward flop of an eighth grade dance.
Trying to participate in a group discussion in English class.
My breakdowns in public.
Trying to socialize.
My heart thuds in my chest as my anxiety spikes. I throw my eyes open and look at the door. There's no lock. Not like the one I had at home. Someone could come in at any time. They could come in and see me in the room where my guard is down.
I turn the music up louder, but now I'm focused on the noises around the new house. Even through the music, I swear I can hear the floorboards creaking, the door opening, someone calling my name, a shout for help—
I yank my earbuds out of my ears. I stare at my door as my music faintly floats through the air. I don't hear anything coming from outside my door.
I think back to what I remember of this new house.
No locked doors besides the ones leading outside.
No locks on the bathrooms.
No locks on the bedrooms.
I look at the closet. I go over and head inside. It's small enough, so it'll work. It's the best I have. I grab my music and shut the door tight. It's dark as I sit against the door. That way, if anyone wants to get in, they'll have to move me first. No one can get in without me knowing.
I close my eyes and put my music in. I turn it loud, even louder than before. My eyes burn, but my body settles as I get lost in the music. The world finally falls away around me, and I let it. I never wanted to be a part of it anyway.