There was a ball of anxiety in my chest.

The type that makes you feel like you can't breathe. Like each and every breath you take requires effort, the muscles of my chest tight. So tight, in fact, they felt like they could barely expand. Instead of my lungs being able to swell like a balloon, it's like they were leather.

It was exhausting. I barely slept, I tossed and turned instead. I could feel the way my hair had balled in clumps of knots from the friction against my pillow. I sighed, watching as the sun began to fill my room. I knew my alarm was going to sound any minute, telling me it was time to get up. It's like every moment was filled with dread. I didn't want to leave my bed. I didn't want to try and untangle the mess my hair was in. I didn't want to shower. I didn't want to put makeup on.

I didn't want to do anything, besides lay here and feel sorry for myself.

I heard footsteps in the hallway, inching closer to my room, and I knew my mom was on her way to make sure I was out of bed. She did the same thing every morning, and I used to roll my eyes at her for it. I used to laugh and tell her I was too old for that, because I knew how to get myself ready on time. I used to be excited for school. I used to bound out of bed, thoughts filled with what I would wear to school and how I would do my makeup. I used to be happy.

I'm not, anymore. That much was obvious.

I closed my eyes as I heard my door open.

"Lilly, sweetheart." My moms voice floated into the air. "Are you still sleeping?"

I groaned, pretending to be awoken by her. I slowly rolled over, still wrapped in my blankets. She was standing at the door, tilting her head at me. She looked at me with the same love in her eyes that's she always did. I felt my heart soften as I looked back at her. She was the only person in my life who was whole heartedly on my team. The only one who didn't expect anything from me. The only one I trusted to not look at me different if she found out about everything.

And I don't just mean what happened that night. I mean everything.

Clara was the only person who had any idea of what's been happening with Jesse. What's been happening now, and for years. She didn't know it all though. She didn't know it all, and she never would if I had anything to say about it. Stuff like what happened to me... it makes you feel differently about people. It makes you pity them. It makes you think about them in a different way. It makes you have questions about why they allowed that to happen to them.

I don't have the answer to that question.

"I don't feel good, mom." I told her, trying to make it seem believable.

My mom arched her eyebrow, her eyes sweeping over the rest of my body. I could tell she was trying to determine whether or not I was lying.

"Are you sure? Maybe it's because you didn't come home until almost 11 last night." My mom smirked at me as she said it, as if she had figured out the real reason. I wish I could tell her how wrong she's got it.

I shook my head, answering her without words. I had learnt lately that sometimes my answers only gave me enough rope to hang myself with.

"Well..." my mom brushed her hair out of her face, "I guess you can stay home."

I knew from her answer that my mom didn't believe I was really sick. Usually, my mom went into pure medical mode just from the inference of illness. I guess whatever she saw in my eyes convinced her to take pity on me.

"I have to go to work now," she continued. "I won't be back until after dinner. Are you going to be okay by yourself?"

I nodded again, and I noticed the way she narrowed her eyes at me. She pursed her lips, staring into my eyes. I wanted to rip mine away, breaking our line of sight. I couldn't do that though, she would know something was wrong.

And if she asked, I wouldn't be able to answer her.

That's the problem, isn't it? When you're tangled in such a web of lies, you can't just pull at just one string. If you pull at one string, the rest of the strings will move. If they move enough, instead of being tangled, you'll free fall downwards. And you'll land flat on your back.

"Jesse will be here soon. Do you want me to tell him you don't need a ride?" My mom asked me, and I noticed the way she spoke slowly, like she was trying to gage my reaction. "How's everything going between you two?"

I wanted to sigh, but I put a smile on my face instead. A cheap, worthless smile.

"Good. Everything is fine, mom. I promise. I just have a bad headache." I explained, bringing my hand to my head as if to demonstrate. "But, yeah. If you could let Jesse know, that would be great."

My mom nodded at me, blowing me a quick kiss before backing out of my room. She didn't look back before she shut my door, which I could only assume meant that she had believed my lies.

Everything is fine, I told her. It couldn't be farther from the truth. Nothing is fine.

I listened for my mom's movements. Our house was small enough that I could gauge what she was doing from where I could hear footsteps. I pictured it in my mind as I heard her walk to the door. I heard the door close, I heard the lock being turned. Only a minute later, and I heard the squeal of tires leaving my driveway. Jesse, I'm assuming from how fast the car peeled out. Once I heard my moms car leave from the driveway, I started to relax.

And even though I started to relax, that ball of anxiety was still sitting in my chest. I realized it wasn't going anywhere, and though the thought of sleep was luring, I knew I wouldn't be able to drift away into the peaceful promise of my dreams with it there. I tore the blanket from my body instead, sitting up.

I was about to shower, when I heard the doorbell ring. Instantly, my body stiffened as I wondered who it was. It must be Jesse. The only other person I could think would come to my house this early was Clara, but she wouldn't know I wasn't at school yet. A sharp breath left my lungs, exiting my body through my nose as I realized I would have to answer it. I reluctantly climbed out of my bed, and grabbed my robe from where it was hanging on my way towards the door. I covered my body with it, not wanting Jesse to have anymore access to my body then he already did.

It only took me a minute or two to get to the door. I guess there are some pros to having such a small home. I remember the first time Jesse came to my house, when he realized I wasn't rich like the rest of them. He never let me live it down. He still brings it up, telling me how lucky I am to know someone like him. To be connected to wealth, as he puts it.

I felt a small tinge of anger flow through me, just at the thought of him. It wasn't strong though, like it should be. It was more like an undercurrent than a wave. I was having trouble feeling anything other than the crushing anxiety.

I took a breath as I stared at the door. Whoever it was was still gently knocking, every thirty seconds or so. The gentle knocks confused me, making think it wasn't Jesse after all. He would be banging his fist against the wood if I didn't open the door immediately.

I looked through the peephole, and I felt the frown on my face when I saw who it was. Why was he here? There was no reason for him to be here. How did he know where I lived? We weren't friends. We were barely acquaintances.

I threw the door open, taking in his appearance as he stood in front of me. The skin around his eyes was red, splotchy like he had been rubbing them repeatedly. His clothes were wrinkled and messy, like he hadn't slept. The exhaustion on his face only confirmed that fact, as did the smell of alcohol that was radiating off of him.

He didn't speak, he looked surprised that I had even answered the door. I didn't know what he was expecting, or who. It was my house after all.

"Khalil?" I spoke his name hesitantly. "What are you doing here?"