Friday, September 30th.....
*Trigger Warning*

"Alright class, pop quiz time."

My whole body freezes in my desk, heart stopping before it picks up speed. My stomach clinches before repeatedly rolling, my chest not faring much better as it tightens and floods with panic.

Pop quiz?! I wasn't ready for a pop quiz. This is my first week here. What do they expect? Me to already know what they're talking about?

I'm fully aware that I'm working myself up over the whole ordeal, but, like usual, I'm powerless to stop it.

And to think I'd woken up feeling halfway decent, minus the whole stiff shoulders thing, after getting a solid five hours of uninterrupted sleep, only feeling mildly guilty over the fact Lucy ditched her own bed and stayed with me on the sofa. Of course it would all go downhill when I stepped into my sixth period class: math.

A heat sprouts up around my neck, and my palms grow sweaty. I grip the edges of my desk, trying to control my breathing before it gets loud enough for the whole classroom to hear.

That one thought spirals into about a dozen others, and I find myself scanning the room for anyone who may be looking at me. I stop on Polly, who's sitting a few desks over. She gives me an encouraging smile when she catches my gaze, but the corners of her lips don't reach her eyes like usual; she knows I'm getting worked up.

I readjust my position in my seat for the hundredth time, swallowing the clump in my throat.

It's just a quiz, but what if the same thing that happened on that day last week I came to take that test happens again? And in front of all these people....

My breath catches, and I can feel the anxiety gripping at my throat. My foot bounces from beneath the desk, trying to expel the antsy energy I wasn't able to burn off before school on my punching bag because, even for me, my shoulders were just too stiff and sore.

"Mr. Rider."

I literally jump in my seat at the sudden voice to my left, and I lower my eyes as a few snickers sound out from around the room. My cheeks heat up, and my throat gets so tight I almost can't breathe. Ribbons of panic swirl up from my chest as I realize all attention is on me.

"Would you like me to schedule a time for you to take this quiz later?" Mr. Barnes, the teacher, questions.

Realizing he wants to give me special treatment due to whatever the hell he was told about me, breaks me out of my hole momentarily.

I move my head in what might be considered a shake. "T-That won't be necessary," I tell him, keeping my gaze down on my desk as eyes from all around the room bore into me. Mr. Barnes lets a breath out. "Alright," he dismisses before placing a few sheets of paper on my desk. He continues down the row, but I tune out as I stare at the three sheets covered in math problems.

Quiz? This looks more like a test.

I glance around, finding a lot of students looking confused and skeptical over their own packets. I reach a hand up, rubbing my tight chest before I fiddle with the bead necklace around my neck.

"You've got thirty minutes to finish and write your name - legibly, on them before turning them in to me. Go."

My heart crashes back into my chest, and with it, a buttload of anxiety.

My trembling hand moves the pencil up to mark the correct answer for the 'choose one' problem, and I focus on inhaling one, and exhaling two, each one feeling like it's not doing a thing for me.

I make it through the first page before I find a problem that really stumps me.

I read the same sentence over again for the sixth time, feeling the panic boil back to the surface as the sound of the clock and pencils scratching against paper echoes in my ears.

Focus Alex. Focus.

I blow a slow breath out, dropping the pencil to the desktop as I push both hands through my hair. My foot hasn't stopped moving the whole fifteen minutes I've been in class, and it picks up speed as it feeds off my panic.

Panic? There's no need to panic. It's a stupid quiz. I should be able to handle this without freaking out....

My mind never likes to listen to reason.

Nausea builds up in my stomach, and my breathing turns shallow just as an elephant sits on my chest. Small buzzing balls of what feels like energy, but must be anxiety, race all over my body, leaving behind trembling muscles and slack limbs. A beating starts up in the back of my head, pulsating in time with my rapid heart.

I reread that math problem again, clinching my pencil in my fist as the clock across the room ticks in my ears. The paper begins to swim in my vision, and a drop of sweat rolls down my forehead.

Tick, tick, scrape, tick, tick, scrape...

The room heats up and begins to move in on me, and the sound of my breathing suddenly takes over all other noises. And that's when I know I'm about to lose it in the middle of class.

Bolting up from my seat, I book it down the row of desks so fast no one has time to even make a sound. I feel Mr. Barnes surprised gaze snap up to me as I pass by his desk, and I ignore him as he calls my name.

I practically run out of the classroom, my chest feeling like it's caving in as my vision continues to swim dangerously and my stomach rolls. I hear another voice call my name behind me, this one female, but I barely register it as I run down the hall, trying to find somewhere I can be alone. Anywhere.

I search for an exit to outside, the blood beating in my veins and my breathing now uneven gasps. Unable to spot one in my delirious haste, I slow to a stop, bringing my hands up to my hair as I try to draw in a decent breath to help ease the tension in my exploding chest. My skin brushes up against something wet on my face, and it suddenly hits me; I'm crying.

Hopelessness, panic, and embarrassment all crowd into my chest as I find eyes from fellow classmates, probably heading to their next class, all on me.

I suddenly can't breathe.

Pushing past the gawking crowd, that's seemed to have gathered around me in the ten seconds I've been standing there, I hold a hand up to my crushed chest, disappearing into the restroom.

I pass a surprised student standing at the sink, and push open one of the stall doors. Locking it behind me, I suddenly find my legs no longer have the strength to hold me up.

I collapse onto the closed lid of the toilet, not caring for a second about the germs. I balance myself on top, tucking my knees up to my chest as the room continues to swirl and twist. The walls and ceiling suddenly feel like they're crushing me, and I'm almost sure my life is about to end.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against my knees. The sound of my breathing sounds even louder in the small room, and I can't help but notice the few chocking gasps I let out every few seconds.

There's suddenly the vague sound of something pounding on the stall door at the edge of my conscious, that female voice once again speaking. I don't try to recall who it is, instead I choke out something along the lines of, 'go away.'

Then, I hug my knees tighter, sure death, long overdue, has finally come for me.

~*~

Eventually, slivers of the world slowly begins to surface to my conscious again, and the crushing weight finally begins to dissipate to a lesser degree. My breathing slows, and the anxiety and panic return to my chest and stomach where it settles in a dull buzz.

I lift my head that feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, running my arm over my eyes. Pulling back, I make out the tell-tale signs of tears on the cotton of my sleeve. Everything comes rushing back, and I suddenly don't feel like even attempting to get up off this uncomfortable toilet seat that, undoubtedly, has already given me some fresh germs, if not a disease.

"Alex?" A small voice questions, and I immediately can tell it's Polly....Wait. Polly? In the boys' restroom?

Or I made the mistake, in my desperation, of running into the girls' restroom.

The thought makes my heart skip a beat in utter embarrassment, and I take a deep, shaky, breath.

"A-Are you i-in the-" She doesn't let me finish my lame attempt of speaking.

"Finish that sentence and I'll make you wish you never met me," she growls, and I can hint the discomfort in her voice. She sighs after a few seconds of silence. "Yes, Alex, I followed you into the boys' bathroom, okay? What do you want? A whole essay about my experience?"

Despite feeling like complete and utter crap, my lips twitch.

"But enough about me," her voice softens remarkably. "How are you?"

And like that, I feel like a bucket of cold water just got dumped over my head. I place my chin on my knees as I tighten my arms around my legs, staring at the crack between the stall door.

"I've been better," my voice comes out barely above a whisper, and I'm not even sure she heard me.

"Same here." Her voice fills with dry amusement. "You would not believe the amount of boys I've had to shoo out in only fifteen minutes of being here. And they say girls have weak bladders."

She goes silent, and I take that time to assess myself.

Shaky hands, nothing new, some unavoidable tear tracks, and...

And, just like that, I notice, with dread, that exhaustion is now back, full force. And, along for the ride and making an early reappearance, is that heavy and dark cloud I'd just shaken.

I sigh, furiously rubbing at my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I slowly stand up, squeezing my eyes shut again as the world tilts dangerously for a few seconds. Letting a shaky breath out, I hang my head, figuring I might as well get it over with.

Unlocking the door, I step out.

"Well it's about time. I was getting ready to crawl under the door-" Polly cuts herself off as she catches sight of me, and I realize I must look worse than I'd thought if I'd shut her up that quickly.

Without bothering to look, I turn the water on and cup my hands under it before splashing my face with the cold liquid. The sharp sting helps center me, and I do it once more before grabbing a handful of towels from the towel dispenser. I pat my face dry, shoving my hair away from my face before glancing over at Polly.

She watches me from my right, lips quirked to the side, and a light of concern in her eyes.

"Hey, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about the stupid quiz. Mr. Barnes really likes to toss those out like candy - large candy at that."

I shake my head, chest suddenly hollow. "It's not your fault." I glance around the empty bathroom. "And thanks. You didn't have to do that."

She shrugs, leaning up against the wall. "What are friends for if not for keeping boys' out of the boys' restroom every now and then?" She smiles, and I let a small smile of my own slip out before I look away.

"Do you want me to call the Browns' to come pick you up?"

I grimace at the question. I really don't want to bother them even though they'll say it's no hassle at all and they're happy to do it. But, then again, I don't know how I can face anymore school today without possibly losing it again.

The thought sends a flutter of nerves through my chest as I recall the audience I had earlier, that embarrassment threatening to make my cheeks an even brighter red than they already are.

"No. I'm fine," I find myself saying before I can think any more on it. Seems I still have a tidbit of pride left in me. How can I leave, even after that, when there's only an hour of school left and soccer practice.

She quirks an eyebrow up at me before letting a long, drawn out, sigh out.

"You're impossible, Alex Rider."

*Time Skip*

To say the day got better after that would be an absolute, big fat lie. I did make it through my final class without drawing anymore unwanted attention, though I did catch some people giving me looks.

But, even after soccer practice, that I barely survived with stiff shoulders, I couldn't seem to shake the exhaustion from my limbs and soul, or that dark cloud that makes the sun shine a little less brighter.

Mack runs up beside me as we're dismissed from soccer practice that, I'm sure, is going to leave me even more sore tomorrow. "Hey, Alex. You okay?" He bumps his shoulder against mine, most likely having already gotten the rundown from Polly over my little show earlier.

Then they'll be telling the Browns', who then will blabber to Mrs. Waver and will end with her making me talk about it and relive it all over again.

I move my shoulders in a half-shrug, letting my guard down a fraction. "I'll survive," I tell him, watching the ground as we walk. Mack chuckles. "I know you will. I just thought it would be rude if I didn't ask."

His pompous tone almost lifts the dark fog over me for a split second, and I crack a small smile. "Hey, what do you say this weekend-" Whatever it is he's about to say gets drowned out as someone calls Mack's name from behind us.

We both turn, finding coach Harrison standing at the edge of the field with his hands on his hips. "I'd like a word with you," he calls, motioning for Mack to come to him.

We both glance at each other, and I suddenly get a sinking feeling that it could be about me. Cold ice runs through my veins, and my breath catches.

What if he wants me to quit the team?

That thought hits me like a freight train, and I then realize, with stunning clarity, that I've been enjoying these last few evenings of soccer practice. The evenings I can let a little of my old self back out without getting burned in the process. Even if I have to include the idiot Chase.

Mack seems to have come to the same possibility as me. His eyes harden, and his lips set in a determined thin line. "Go on. I'll meet you next to the parking lot. Polly should already be there."

I let a slow breath out as I nod, trying to release the tension building in my chest, but to no avail. "Alright," I say, watching as he turns and heads towards the coach. Waiting a few seconds, I then turn around, walking towards the parking lot Mack was talking about. I grip my backpack strap tighter in my hand as a cold breeze blows over my skin, causing goosebumps to settle on my skin.

Then the day goes from total bad, to total worse.

As I walk by the small alleyway between the back of the school and the brick service building, my senses tingle just a second too slow as a fist smacks me on the side of the cheek.

Pain bursts in my cheek, and I teeter off balance from the sudden blow. Before I can right myself, or even try to defend myself with my groggy and sore arms, hands latch on to each of my arms, and I'm being tugged back into the alley.

Panic explodes in my chest, and my heart speeds up as my throat dries.

I'm pushed roughly up against a brick wall, the momentum causing my head to jerk back and forth once. The prickly bricks at my back scrape at the skin of my lightly clothed back, bringing unwanted memories to the surface.

I'm suddenly left staring into the smug eyes of Chase.

"Ah, Alex. Just the guy I wanted to see," he says like he didn't plan this little ambush at all. I look around to find two of his lackeys holding me back against the wall, two more at his side. No one else in sight in the narrow alleyway.

My heart thunders in my ears, more from the fact hands are restraining me than the jerk-wad of a face sneering down at me. My fragile state I was reduced to after the panic attack earlier returns, and suddenly it's all I can do just to stay standing as a fainting sensation washes over me.

"Not so tough now that you're all by your lonesome, are ya, chap?" He cackles like he just made some joke, two of his buddies joining him before he silences them with a look. "I've been meaning to have a chat with you."

I'm sure that's all he wants. Just like I'm sure I love every part of my life.

Chase leers closer to me, and I try to hold his eyes. But something about this whole situation seems off, and I can't find it in me to even try to intimidate him.

"You think you're top-notch soccer material, don't you?" He spits. "Think you're the best one on the team and deserve the star position?" His jaw tightens, and he balls his hands up. "Well, you're not."

"I saw your little show earlier today." My heart drops, and the anxiety grows in my chest. "You're nothing but a freaky twit. Trash best left in the dump." He places a hand up against the wall by my head, leaning in closer. "You're a problem child ain't no one gonna miss if ya just up and disappeared one day. Them Browns' don't really care about you. They like charity cases, gives them some sick feelings of redemption, you could say."

My eyes fall to the dirty floor, whispers of doubt trickling into my mind despite how hard I try to tell myself this is just a bully trying to worm his way into my mind.

"You'd be better off packing up and running back to wherever the hell you came from. This town doesn't need you as their trouble."

He suddenly grabs a fistful of my hair, jerking my head forward so my only choice is to look him in the eye. "Got that, freak?" When I don't say anything, he abruptly swings my head back, cracking it up against the hard wall.

Lights explode somewhere in the back of my mind, my breath escaping in a whoosh, and the beginnings of a headache starts up.

"You stupid or something?!" He almost shouts, brows pinching together in anger.

The panic inside me quickly turns to fear as I realize this guy is a little more serious than the childish bully I had a run-in with at the fair. Not to mention larger in bulk.

He must've seen the change in me, because he suddenly smiles again. "You might look like some bad-boy extraordinaire, but you ain't nothing to me."

Then, as if to prove his point, he promptly nails me square in the gut.

The air completely explodes out of my body, and a deep-rooted pain sprouts up from somewhere in my stomach, blooming out and almost making me lose my lunch.

I see his fist coming before it hits my cheek again, and I'm just barely able to brace for it in time.

He stares at me a second. "Well, do something. We wanna see you completely baby-out again."

Even in my fear-frozen state, I make out just how low and malicious Chase and his goons are. He thinks it's entertainment.

He hits me again on the side of my face, snapping my head to the left. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth as I bite my tongue, and I suck in air to help keep the panic attack, I can feel coming, held back for as long as possible.

I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Tears sting my eyes as he punches my gut again, and I unconsciously start to pull against the hands that hold me.

"Come on!" Chase yells again, right into my face. And just like that, my mind transports me back to a different time.

"Then you went and pulled this little stunt!" Ben yells in my face, slamming me back against the wall.

I suddenly can't discern between reality and the memory my mind is replaying as both Ben and Chase push their forearms into my neck, pressing hard enough to choke me.

My anxiety and panic spike, and a flood of tears suddenly break out from my eyes as a hopelessness greater than I've ever felt grips my whole being.

My hands automatically come up to grasp his forearm he pushes up against my neck, his hand with the beer bottle up against the wall beside my face.

I try to raise my hands, but something keeps them from budging from my sides. Ice washes down my back, freezing my heart at the raw fear that's suddenly exploding inside me.

His nostrils flare as he stares at me, his face only a mere five inches away. I resist the urge to crinkle my face up in disgust as that alcohol stench wafts outwards from his each breath.

A different face comes into focus a mere few inches from mine, this one holding just as much menace as Ben's. The pressure on my neck increases, and my eyes widen.

"Maybe you are only a no good, god forsaken piece of trash!!" He abruptly yells in my face, his expression thunderous.

I flinch at the shattering sound of glass breaking right next to my head, the burning stench of alcohol still stinging my nose.

And that's all I can take before I'm suddenly thrashing in Chase's - no, Ben's hold. The panic and fear gripping my chest and heart explodes into a sheer desperation, a need to be anywhere but there taking hold. My mind turning to anything to escape the pain I know is coming.

"N-No! P-Please no!"

I suck in a breath that sounds more like a sob, still pulling and jerking my arms and legs like a madman. The pressure on my neck stays, and I can see Ben's face, so full of hate, scowling at me as he raises a hand to hit me.

"Stop! I-I'm sorry!"

I fall back against the brick wall, shivering and chocking on air and tears as I try to lift my hands up to protect my face. But to no avail. They don't budge.

"I'm s-sorry," my voice comes out as a sob, every muscle in my body trembling.

Forget about a panic attack. This just turned into a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Um, Chase. What's happening?" A voice near me quickly says, and I can just make it out, but don't process it at all. "Shut it, Ty. I'm thinking."

A roaring sound fills my ears, and a painful ringing starts up. I can suddenly raise my hands up to my face, and I fall down to the ground, curling up as my world, for the second time today, spirals out of control.

Nothing makes since except for the tremendous amount of panic and fear, the feeling like I'm being sucked down a long, cold, dark hole. My breathing literally stops, and I start chocking on air.

"Chase, I think this is serious."

"What did you do? He looks like he's dying!"

"What the heck!? He can't breathe!"

Voices, muffled and on the corners of consciousness, repeatedly go off, each tone a little different from the one before. Each one sending even more fear into me.

"-pay back for the other day."

"No, man. This has gone far en-"

"Quit the soccer team. It ain't a question."

Then, they're gone, and I'm left to navigate the universe myself, forced to find my way back out.

Right before the imperative tightness in my chest can make me completely black out, I suck in a precious gulp of air, using it to anchor myself to the world. Slowly coming back to myself after, honestly, I don't know how long, I find I'm laying on my side, knees drawn up to my heaving chest as my whole body trembles like I'm in zero degree weather.

"Oh god, Alex!"

Suddenly, I hear the sound of something falling to the ground, then a body is blocking my view of the brick wall in front of me. A hand touches my shoulder, and I jerk away, snapping my hand up to cover the area like I've been wounded.

My chest aches with a deep pain like I've never before felt, and my tender throat burns with each breath. I feel completely unsteady, like one little gust and I'll fall off a cliff and into insanity.

A warm hand, a huge contrast to my own chilled one, grabs mine before I can fall.

The contact centers me a degree, and I look up into Mack's eyes. "Alex, can you hear me?" He questions, his voice still sounding far away despite the fact I know he's kneeling right in front of me.

"God, Alex. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I should've found you earlier-"

I tune out his rambling, turning all my attention towards just drawing in the next shaky breath. "M-Mack," I swallow the thick clump in my throat, not able to express how relieved I am to see him in my current state.

His eyes immediately brighten as I say his name. He scoots closer, still gripping my hand like he's afraid I'll disappear. "That's right. Can you sit up?" I jerk my head in what's supposed to be a yes, already trying to move my arms around to push up from the ground.

I manage to get my shaking like a leaf arms under me, but Mack does all the labor as he pulls me up into a sitting position. I lay my head back against the wall, stretching my legs out in front of me as I continue to pant.

My eyes suddenly glance around the alley, panic once again spiking, as I look for any threat. Mack notices.

"Don't worry. They're gone," he confirms. "Ryan, one of Chase's goons, found me and told me what happened." His eyes fill with pain and concern.

I open my mouth, only to find my jaw is trembling just as badly as my arms. "Th-they-" My voice breaks, and suddenly, more tears are falling down my face and the sobs come back tenfold.

I try to stop them, really I do. Crying like a baby in front of Mack wasn't something I wanted to check off my bucket list. But, as usual, my mind doesn't listen to my wishes.

I catch Mack looking completely lost as-to what he should do, face torn and his concern dangling on dangerous.

Through the shameless crying, I try to dab at the tears with my shirt sleeve, but mostly end up just soaking my shirt. A hollow feeling grows in the pit of my stomach, and I'm suddenly drained.

Sometime later, after the tears had stopped and I was reduced to downgrading hiccups, Lucy and Don show up with Polly close behind.

To be continued....
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A/N

Hey all! 👋🏻 Long time no see....ha ha.... *Clears throat* I apologize for not updating earlier but I haven't really been on Wattpad much as of late. I just recently got back from the beach and now I'm seriously trying to get my life together. I'm hopefully taking my road test tomorrow to finally get my license then I need to focus on taking a math and English test for the college I'm going to be attending so they know where I stand, and I'm also figuring out a job....

So yeah, busy times ahead.

I really want to update this book (all my books for that matter) regularly but I really don't know. I currently have a bit of a writers block which is really unfortunate....😪 I have one more chapter for this book ready that I wrote up awhile ago so hopefully I'll have the motivation (and time) to get some more written before too long. We'll see.

I just wanted to let you guys know so if you don't see an update for awhile you don't completely give up on me.

Now (I hope you would be able to know this without me saying anything, but just in case ) Alex may suddenly seem like a big cry baby, but cut him some slack. He's dealing with a lot of emotional stuff. And I seriously hope I didn't do a sucky job with this chapter cause I feel like it's rather important even if it might not seem that way.

VOTE!!! I need 25 votes before updating again!

Warning: Just as an early warning, the next chapter's going to be really heavy and intense. (And you thought this one was) There will be trigger warnings and you may want a box of tissues....just saying.

Maggy