Littlespace Academy (SFW)

Chapter 6* (REDONE 01/02/2023)

*PTSD Flashbacks involving (physical and emotional) abuse/neglect from a mother figure, body dysmorphia, and self-harm: Estimated to take up the first half of the chapter. There will be a statement in bold saying "SAFE ZONE" if you wish to skip it. 

There was a bruise on my upper arm. I felt panic setting in. The outskirts of my vision lost focus. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I was shaking. The room was cold. I could feel how tense my skin was. I tried to move. I couldn't. The longer I stared at the mirror, the bigger it looked like I was. I felt smelly, disgusting, ugly, everything she had ever called me. My arms were too big as they approached my shoulders, my stomach was so small I was sure the slight roundness it had was extremely noticeable to others. How long had they been walking around thinking I was disgusting too? Maybe it would've been better for me to go home.

I tried to meet my eyes. I burst into tears the second I did. I hated myself. It wasn't fair. I got hurt and I didn't know how and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! The only other time this happened was at home! I remembered how the living room always smelt like cinnamon and pine from the candles my mom kept lit. It was almost like I could smell it in that moment. It was like I was there. I could see my dad's chair in the corner next to the two cushion couch. I could see myself walking up to my mom, asking to talk to her. I could hear her voice. I felt the deep breath I had taken before I spoke to her.

"I haven't been okay lately, at all," I admitted. My gaze stayed on my feet while I fidgeted with my hands. She didn't seem like the type to take this conversation well, I was only here talking to her because Charlotte urged me to make the attempt. She was the only person who really knew how I worked. My mom waited to talk until I glanced up at her for the first time. Her arms were crossed and her balance was leaning to one side. Her lips were pursed. She only looked like that when something annoyed her. I was the something.

"What do you mean you haven't been okay? You're getting high grades in school that I've been very proud of you for, you're seeing your friends all the time, you have good hygiene, and you're eating and sleeping just fine, so I haven't seen anything wrong with you." Her tone was as demanding as her demeanor looked. I could swear she was fully glaring at me when she talked. When I hesitated she started to look angry, so I looked at my feet again. I took another deep breath. My body was shaking. I didn't know if I'd be able to keep my balance.

"No, it's none of that, I just haven't felt okay," I talked quieter than I meant to. My face was hot, no doubt red. My eyes were stinging. I would be lucky if she didn't start going off at that moment. I held my hands closer to my body and fought the urge to chew my lip.

"If you weren't okay you would be struggling more, wouldn't you?" There it was. She sounded so condescending. Her voice drawled as she spoke, pitch raising and lowering in a pattern I desperately wished to forget being familiar with. It made my head feel like it was going to split apart. I could never tell if the pain came from grief or hurt turning into anger. I glanced as far towards her as I could force myself to. My eyes felt like they were glued downwards. It got worse when I spoke.

"I was afraid of how you would react if I told you," the admittance came out of my mouth sounding like something between a choke, a sob, and a whisper. I internally noted how pathetic it must have sounded. Surely she was going to get more upset about that tone.

"You mean you don't trust me?" Now she sounded angry. She sounded accusatory. I flinched, not daring to look up lest it meant she would yell. I was praying she wouldn't. Her yelling could shake the house if she was far enough worked up. I didn't know if she would yell. I knew I needed a response fast.