Miss

As Bandit padded through the halls of her creaky old three-story Victorian house, she couldn't help but zoom in on the growing bubbling sensation of hesitation gurgling within her stomach, the tension gnawing at her limbs, and last but certainly not least, what felt like a winter's metal death trap of a claw snare enveloping her ribcage mercilessly. She soon realized that this may not be one of her best ideas. No, she took it back. It was a good thing to ask for help when she so desperately needed it, but it was a burden to put it into action. A task that would sap her dry of all the necessary social conventions needed to function. She just knew she would end up making a fool of herself.

It was a quarter past eleven and the Way household was readying itself for a good night's rest. Bandit, however, had already prepared for bed and had been fearlessly turning in bed for what felt to be done, carefully considering how to communicate the way she was feeling a steady decline in her mental state over the past several months. What made her finally decide to tell her parents was the thought of her marks in school falling next school year. This was inevitably going to happen if she carried on in such a state because of as of now, she could scarcely carry out the slightest of tasks without serious effort on her part. Not to mention larger tasks, which would just pile up until she could no longer breathe due to the pressure of it all. She could see the situation snowballing into her downfall if left unspoken.

Upon thinking of the consolation of her parents from previous tough times, she felt strength full her being, while her anxious affect softened until she had reached her parents' door. She took a deep breath to shake away any residue of tension, counted to three, and knocked.

Notes

All I will say is that old Victorian houses are simply beautiful.