Take My Hands Now

Chapter 1

"OK class, hold your partner's hand and follow closely", you heard the teacher call out as you strutted through a dark museum behind your classmates.

"Y/N, what's the matter? Why aren't you holding her hand? I told you, you need to hold your partner's hand and walk together, I don't want to lose any of you."

"Ms Kim, Y/N doesn't like to hold other people's hands", another student said in a mocking voice. Tattletale... The darkness starts to inch in on you, you were sure it was daylight before you entered the museum. You could feel the snide remarks and demeaning stares surround you.

"Maybe she has sweaty hands."

"She thinks she's too good to be holding our hands."

"Such a weird dweeb."

And suddenly you jolt awake. The nightmare was exceptionally realistic, because it bore the memories of your childhood days.

-

When you were just five years old, you saw your mother crying one day on the couch and all you wanted to do was to comfort her. So, you walked over and held her hand and in an instant, you felt a sharp pain pierce through you, making you let out a shriek and collapse in tears.

Other kids would enjoy walking around holding their grandparents' or parents' hands, but you had no idea why they liked it. "How is something like this enjoyable?", you used to wonder. Each time you held someone's hand, it was like a gamble.

You learnt to shun it, to avoid it and naturally you hated those times when the education system required you to physically come in contact with anybody. One time it got so bad your elementary classmate, April, thought you disliked her when you refused to hold her hand when forming a circle for class activity that she started bawling and claiming you hated her.

As you grew up, your parents began noticing your behaviour and one day, after your teacher told your mum about the 'April incident', she sat you down at home. "Y/N, did April upset you? Why did you not want to hold her hand?", she asked while she faced the kitchen counter chopping up some vegetables.

"I don't like to hold hands", you said almost matter-of-factly, because you never understood why it seemed so easy for other people to do that.

"Why not darling? When you hold someone's hands it creates a bond between them and you and it allows you to make friends. Don't you want to make lots of friends at school?"

"Is that what it was? A bond between people?", maybe that is what you feel every time.

A few years passed and you tried your best to improve your social interactive skills as you progressed through elementary school. Somehow you never managed to go about this physical contact thing with as much ease as everyone else. Maybe you were a weird dweeb.

It was a hot afternoon, and it was the dreaded physical education period, Mina was practicing her standing broad jump and you had to be standing right opposite her. She must have overexerted herself and lost her balance, as she came hurling towards you when she landed. She was right about to fall on you with both hands outstretched grabbing at nothing for support when you instinctively flinched and backed away from the contact, leaving her to fall forward onto the jumping mat. Immediate regret was an understatement and Mina looked like she had sprained her ankle in the process so the teacher asked you to take her to the infirmary. You held out a hand to help her up and there it was again, the piercing feeling tearing right through you which lasted all the way to the infirmary until you let her plop down on the bed there.

That night you were sulking in your room thinking back to all the nasty remarks you heard from your other classmates about you letting Mina fall on her face and hurting her. Why does it seem like nobody else has the same dilemma you had? That was when your grandfather quietly entered the semi-lit room, "what's the matter, my dear?"