I could feel it racing through me. In my blood, I was painfully aware of it. I could hear my heartbeat and my head was throbbing. My legs turned to lead, and I couldn't move. Dropping to my knees, my eyes grew wide. Each breath was heavy. It was so intense, there was no room for anything else. There was no feather nor peace, only fear.

I was alone in the classroom, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. My eyes refused to focus. The trembling in my hands spread to my shoulders and soon I was near convulsing. Breathing erratic, short gasps of air were expelled quickly.

Lips curling in a manic grin, I fought to get my knees in front of me. Dropping my head low, I curled into a ball, running my hands through my hair. The feather, think of the feather.

Seconds slowed and ticked by as the feather formed in my mind. It was blasted in all directions, refusing to settle. A breeze would lift it up and a gale would smash it against the ground. Clouds drifted overhead, blotting out the sun. The warmth disappeared from my skin, cold and dread replacing it. I refused to break.

The clouds disappeared. There was no sun. No heat nor chill. Only the feather remained. It fell to the ground, bounced skywards again and for a moment it stilled. My hands finally stopped shaking and my breathing calmed. Sighing, I took a moment to hug myself. My legs turned from lead to jelly, and I stretched them reluctantly.

Closing my eyes, I pressed against the wall and tilted my head upwards. Another panic attack maybe? I know self-diagnosing can be dangerous, but I can't think of any other explanation. I can't rationalise this fear that is always there. Sometimes it's small and harmless, and other times it can be like now, a horrible dark, encroaching on everything hopeful.

Scoffing, I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair. The hoarse whisper that escaped my throat was barely even a squeak. "What are you scared of?"

Waiting a little longer, I regained some more strength. Eventually deciding I was feeling well enough, I stood, took a moment to steady my feet, and left the classroom. My bag slung over my shoulder, I made my way from the second-floor classrooms, back to the dorms.

As I walked, a clock caught my eye. It was four pm, classes had ended at three-thirty. Far out, this fear is a real pain in my arse.

"J, what are you doing here?"

Blinking, I stopped in my tracks. I hadn't even noticed Charlotte standing there. Her brows were knitted in concern, but her back was straight and her head was up.

"I'm just leaving. You?" I asked, smiling and answering casually. That is technically the truth. Sure, it's not the whole truth, but this isn't something I feel comfortable telling her.

Her lips curling in a skeptical frown, Charlotte's voice filled with suspicion. "I'm delivering these to the teacher's lounge," she said, lifting the bundle of papers cradled in her arms. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Caught by surprise, my jaw dropped slightly, and I recoiled. Guess we're having a conversation now. Brain, activate people functions.

Grinning sheepishly, I rubbed the back of my neck. "I didn't sleep much last night. The book I was reading was just too good."

Her suspicious gaze lingered for a moment but then Charlotte smiled, her mood brightening. "Alright then. Would you mind giving me a hand with these?"

"Sure," I answered, taking some of the papers from her.

The relief in her face was obvious as she smiled gratefully and collected the loose sheets which threatened to fall to the floor. Gesturing with her head, Charlotte moved past me and made for the teacher's lounge. Following, I quickly overtook her.

"Would you slow down?" Charlotte pleaded, her short legs struggling to keep.

Chuckling, I shortened my stride. "Sorry."

"Tall people are always in such a rush," she said playfully, rolling her eyes.

I shrugged and donned my signature grin. "Are all short people so bossy?"

"I'm not short! I'm just not as tall as you," she said, sounding insulted.

It was true, Charlotte is definitely taller than most other girls in my class. Not that I'll give her that.

"Anyone shorter than me is short," I said, smirking obnoxiously. Glancing over, I could see Charlotte searching for a retort and sure enough, she found one.

Her nose turning up, Charlotte looked away, thinking she had won. "Funny coming from the baby of our year."

Yeah, it's true. The big oaf is nearly the youngest in his year. The only kid born after me had skipped a year. Though honestly, I'm somewhat proud of that fact, not that Charlotte knows it.

"For one so young to be competing so gallantly, it is admirable, wouldn't you say?" I responded, donning an air of mock nobility.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Conceding defeat, she smiled and muttered, "whatever."

Our shoes echoing through the empty corridors, we walked in contented silence to the teacher's lounge. Breathing easily, I felt my shoulders relaxing. I chuckled inwardly and glanced at Charlotte. My gaze brushing over her, I looked to the windows. Outside, the wind raced, picking leaves from the ground and carrying them far away. It had been cloudy today, perhaps a storm was brewing?

Charlotte cleared her throat and my eyes flicked to her. She was smirking, hands on her hips. How long had she been looking at me?

Chuckling nervously, I took a half step backwards. Rubbing at my neck, I shrugged cluelessly. Shaking her head, Charlotte took the papers from my arms and knocked on a door before stepping in. She spoke briefly with the teachers and was finished a moment later.

Sliding the door closed again, Charlotte watched me from the corner of her eye. Her lips curling into a curious smile, she skipped backwards. "What were you thinking about?"

"Just that it looks windy outside."

Her mouth dropping open slightly, Charlotte turned and approached the window. Her hands grasping the sill, she smiled as the leaves were tossed about. "Wow, it is windy."

Then, just for a moment, something in Charlotte shifted. Her smile was different. The change was so small, and it was only there for a moment. I, I used to smile like that.

Charlotte laughed and rolled her eyes as her pocket began buzzing. Reaching into her blazer, Charlotte pulled out her phone and waved it in the air. "One job down and I'm already being summoned again," she joked.

Smiling weakly, I raised my hands innocently. "The curse of popularity."

Laughing, Charlotte waved and began hurrying away. "Thanks for your help!" She called over her shoulder, raising the phone to her ear.

As sudden as the wind outside, she was gone. I was left alone, standing speechless. That smile of hers had been so brief that I thought it wasn't real but just now, her shoulders dipped and her happiness broke. For a moment, she had cracked.

Charlotte, why did you smile like that? Why are you hurting? Why are you hiding it?

Questions without answers ricocheted like bullets, restlessly bouncing from one wall of my brain to the other. Like a zombie, my feet dragged me through the school. People greeted me as I passed and I returned the gestures kindly, on autopilot, but I was really searching for something. I couldn't help but wonder, each person who passed me, were they struggling?

There was no encroaching fear. No sense of relentless dread. Just the thought that maybe everyone was hurting. It was exhausting. I am tired.

"Hey," a cheerful voice said.

Lifting my gaze from the floor, I found Evelyn smiling at me. She was so pretty. Everyone could be faking it. Behind their smiles, they could be drowning. Not Evelyn, she was honest with me. Seeing her was a breath of fresh air and it struck me hard.

We were in a hallway on the first floor. The library was up ahead and around the corner. A door nearby led out to the gardens. A couple students wandered past. The occasional teacher smiled at us.

Seeing my crestfallen face, Evelyn frowned and stepped closer, reaching for my arm. "Is something wrong?"

I took a moment to think about it; is something wrong? Well, maybe, but I don't know for sure. That boy could be hurting. That girl over there might be in pain. Mr. Radcliffe, are you alright?

Wordlessly, I wrapped my arms around Evelyn, holding her tight. She gasped quietly as she was pulled into my chest. Squirming, she fought to glance up at me. Her cheeks tinged red.

"J, what are you-"

"Please, just let me hold you."

Freezing, Evelyn thought for a moment. She knew something was off, but she didn't know what, and I couldn't tell her because I didn't know. How do you explain that everyone might be hurting and there is nothing you can do? It is not my responsibility. So, why, why do I feel guilty?

"Come on, let go a second," Evelyn said, patting my back.

Nodding, I released her and stepped back. My downcast gaze saw nothing but the cold stone floor and the edge of her little back shoes.

Taking my hand, Evelyn led me outside. She settled on a bench near the gardens and pulled me down beside her. My arm found its way around her shoulders. Taking my limp hand in hers, she traced little circles in my palm.

Heaving a shaky breath, I felt her lean against me. Then, Evelyn smiled softly, and I felt a little warmer.