[ CW ] Show a character suffering from a mental disorder without naming it .

There is only a door that separates me from Alice Morton, the red-haired girl who stole an important possession of mine. At *exactly* 3:15 PM, I forced myself to plant my body before it: that is, the door that belongs to her and not to me. 
 
 
 
 
 I contemplate how many times I should knock on Alice Morton ’ s door when my neck grows hot and tingly. I scratch it a few times, but the itching sensation crawls down my spine and spreads across my back. It turns into skin fire and I can ’ t take it. Groaning with desperation, I tear my arms out of the zip-up hoodie I ’ m wearing and let it fall to the ground. Free of my outer layer, I cool to my preferred state of lukewarm, but I notice part of my t-shirt is untucked. 
 
 
 
 
 “ Oh my G… dammit. Why did I even leave? ” 
 
 
 
 
 I frantically unbuckle my belt and stuff the rest of my shirt into my jeans. As I force one side of the belt back through the square frame, my fingers tremble, and I can ’ t manage to slide the metal prong into the correct hole. 
 
 
 
 
 “ Why can ’ t I, just- “ 
 
 
 
 
 The door belonging to Alice Morton swings opens. I drop my hands and look up. Alice Morton is standing there wearing red pajamas and her hair in a towel. She blinks and her eyes move to my undone belt, then to the hoodie crumpled up beside me. 
 
 
 
 
 *Who speaks first? Do I speak first? She isn ’ t saying anything. It must be me. * 
 
 
 
 
 “ Alice Morton, hello, I- ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ What are you doing? ” 
 
 
 
 
 *Crap, I got it wrong. * 
 
 
 
 
 “ I ’ m standing here because this is where you live. ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ Um, okay. Why are you here? ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ Because my book is here. The one in the class email you sent, it ’ s mine. ” As I finish speaking, I see my shiny blue and green biology book sitting on the surface of a wood desk across the room. The desk is shoved up against the only window. 
 
 
 
 
 “ Oh,'' she says, `` yeah I… ” 
 
 
 
 
 With firm dignity, I buckle my belt and walk past Alice Morton, eyes locked on my book. 
 
 
 
 
 “ Whoa, what the heck? I never said you could come in. ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ I never said you could take my book. ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ I didn ’ t *take* it, I- “ 
 
 
 
 
 “ If you didn ’ t take it, why is it here? ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ Oh my God, seriously? ” 
 
 
 
 
 “ Yes, seriously, it ’ s here. ” I pick up the book with one hand and point to it with the other. “ Right here. ” 
 
 
 
 
 I do n't want to continue talking. I march toward Alice Morton and her door, averting my eyes from her gaze. As I pass, she pushes my shoulder and I take a violent lurch backward. I tug at my shirt in frantic terror, like someone smeared acid on the spot where her hand was. She reaches out again, but I twist my limbs into a contorted knot to avoid her fingers. She laughs. I want to shrivel up into myself. The skin fire ignites on my face and spreads outward. 
 
 
 
 
 “ Don ’ t touch me! ” My voice is loud enough to sound like yelling, but I want it to be louder. “ DON ’ T *EVER* TOUCH ME! ” 
 
 
 
 
 Seething with rage, I envision a stampede of angry rhinos and launch my body into the hallway. I notice several people staring as I run wildly through the building. 
 
 
 
 
 After slamming the door that belongs to me, I chuck my biology book into the closet and rip the carefully folded sheets away from my bed. The image of Alice Morton ’ s laughing face floods my mind as I hurl myself against the mattress and scream into the faded padding. I run my fingers over my scalp, feeling for patches of hair to rip out, but they're met with dozens of bald spots. 
 
 
 
 
 I curl my spine so I can hold my knees against my chest and empty the water from my eyes. 
 
 
 
 
 Today was a bad day. 

