[All the clocks stop at 2:50.]

The bell peals, it's piercing cry reverberating across the school yard as it sends everyone scurrying back to their seats before teachers stride into respective classrooms to begin class.

Marina does not need to move. She remains inert in her seat, necessities already laid on the table. Her pens are arranged immaculately on one side of the table, books in the middle and finally her pencil case directly aligned with the top edges of her books.

Her eyes dart to her wristwatch. 8:30AM. Then, they trail upwards to the clock on the wall. 8.30AM. She allows her shoulders to relax just a bit, then returns her full attention to the ticking hands of the wall clock.

8.01AM.

The classroom door remains closed.

The incessant chatters all around her swell; her right foot begins to bounce ever so slightly, and her fingers curl into fists; she feels her heart beats just a little faster, breaths she takes getting a little shallower-

The door slides open, and she snaps back alert. In steps their homeroom teacher.

"Okay, settle down, class will begin..."

*

Break arrives sooner than she expects. Once the familiar chime reaches her ears, her hands immediately reach to tidy her desk, eyes briefly flitting to her watch-12PM. Even after the desk is empty, she double checks to reaffirm. Pencil case in the drawer. Books in the bag, the spines upwards and stacked accordingly to her timetable.

Now at ease, she takes her lunchbox and heads out of the classroom.

Break is relatively peaceful. She finds her usual place on top of the stairs vacant, and she settles down with her box on her lap. She allows a small smile to grace her lips at the sight of two perfectly symmetrical balls of rice tightly packed into its compact confinements. Stomach growling at the plain yet delectable meal, her fingers barely grazed across her meal.

"Tsk, you never change."

Instantly, her bubble of tranquillity pops. Unable to stop the slight frown, she glances upward, albeit the voice already registering the owner's identity in her head.

"And you never stop disturbing me," she calmly responds despite the slight stir in her chest. Takeya feigns a hurt look. "I'm only concerned for my dear friend, and this is what I receive in respond?"

Before she hurls back a retort, he reaches down and snatches one rice ball. "Hey!" she cries out and flinches away all too late. He is already chomping it down. "You're a glutton," she weakly insults, which only elicits a laugh from the teen.

"And you are a terrible cook," comes his blunt taunt. Anger spikes in her chest, but she deeply inhales. Knowing him, her infuriation will only further provide him entertainment. She switches her focus to the soft, rhythmic ticks of her watch. Her foot subconsciously taps to each ticking seconds. Her grip tightens on the plastic box.

Breathe in, breathe out. Listen. 1, 2, 1, 2...

She feels serenity returning, and the lurking darkness retreating.

"If you aren't going to eat, then-" This time, she reacts quick, swiftly closing the lid just before his fingers prods into the box. "Go away," she huffs, and shifts to turn away before taking the last rice ball in her hands and snacking on it. She hears his chuckle, and a shuffling of fabric, followed by fading footsteps. "Well then, thanks for the meal!" His jovial voice echoes in the empty stairway. She lets out a sigh, and proceeds to enjoy the rest of her meal in comfortable silence.

When the hands of the clock strikes 12.20PM, she gets up and leaves.

*

When the school bell rings for the final time that day, a collective sighs of relieve resounds in the classroom. Many students eagerly leaves the classroom, keen to return to the solace of their abodes, where it shelters them from the depravity of the society.

Marina remains still, eyes glued to the clock on the wall.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Footsteps approach her unmoving figure.

"Heh, I told you, she wouldn't go home until that damn clock reaches 4.30."

"Whatever, let's just get over with this."

The pounding steps are nothing compared to the roaring voices in her mind. She barely registers their squawking, preaching about what sounds like their undying admiration for Takeya, until a slap greets her head.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you!"

When her blank gaze refuses to hint any form of response, this time, a hand cracks across her face. Another force from beneath yanks at her chair, sending her crashing down to the ground. Yet, all the same, she remains motionless. Her stare is now fixed on her wristwatch.

4.28PM.

"She isn't reacting... we didn't kill her, did we?"

"She's just a weirdo. Let's just go. It's not worth it."

The faceless figures leave the classroom, slamming the door behind them. She lays there unmoving, watching the needle tick the seconds away.

1,2,1,2,1,2...

Finally, the hands hit 4.30PM.

Just like that, she bolts up, gathers her belongings and marches out of the classroom.

*

Her mind is a ticking bomb, waiting to detonate the moment the time reaches and unleash the savage beast she cages up in the day.

Now, she sits on a swing in the soulless park. The huge clock that looms over the playground strikes 2.30AM. Around her, three different clocks are set on the ground, their clicks eerily simultaneous. Under her ragged breath, she utters the numbers along to the ticks of the clocks.

"1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2..."

It may work in the day, where the bustling world keeps her moving forward, but in the stillness of the night, the roaring noises in her head overwhelms her senses, slurs of deprecatory driving daggers into her sanity and ripping her apart from the inside.

The hands that cradle her head twitches. She digs her nails into her scalp in vain hopes to reign control again, but the beast is unabating, lashing out onslaught after onslaught of waves of despair running through every fibre of her being. She curls downwards, succumbing to the devil's rage. One hand claws at the bare skin of her legs. Tears prick the corner of her eyes, her breaths now escape her in gasps. Her begs to be unbridled to the beast drown in the raging tempest, and all she could do is count, count, count because it is the only way to seek refuge from the screeches in her mind.

A pair of feet appears in her spinning vision. A vice-like grip clinches her pummelling hands against her head.

"Marina! Listen to me!"

With a gasp, the tide recedes for a fleeting moment. She stares into the caramel irises she used to dread whenever they invade her rare times of sanctuary, this time it's usual mirth is now replaced with anguish and distress.

Neither moves for a few good seconds. Then, she finally breaks into tears, lips pulled downwards into an ugly cry and he embraces her before she resorts to hitting herself again. It takes a while, but eventually, her weeps ebb into mere sniffles, and when she feels the control returning just enough, she peels herself away from his arms.

His grip tightens, refusing to allow her to part.

Her watery gaze turns on him, expecting to see anger or even repugnance in his features, but instead she spots a hint of hesitation, and perhaps even bashfulness. They engage into a telepathic battle, him telling her to stay and her pleading to be released.

Finally, he leans in and presses his lips against her forehead.

Her body goes rigid; heart beat accelerating, but it is a welcoming sensation.

And all the clocks stop at 2.50 in the morning.

♧[14/5/2020]♧

Disclaimer: this is only an attempt to describe anxiety, so i do not know how actual anxiety happens.

Sacrificing nights to write while throwing away school work might not be the best choice but oh well.

:)