<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img11.deviantart.net/ac83/i/2014/244/2/d/laura_pol_paint_by_patricia_crvl-d7xjoof.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Tessa "Tess" Cantrell | Hourglass<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Ms. Desjardins’ psychology classroom -<strong>COPING SKILLS</strong><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Tusday September 9th - 7:35 AM<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Gabriel Summers, Bridgette Desjardins, Neena Thurman<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Having anxiety about sharing.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Outfit (http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/1hkyg9-l-610x610-sweater-girl-jeans-blue+jeans-white+sweater-necklace-gold+necklace-cardigan-coat-shoes-cute-cute+outfits-cute+outfit-nice-nice+outfit-girly+outfits+tumblr-girly-girly+outfits-girly.jpg)<br/><hr/>It was so early in the morning, but Tess wasn't tired. She had woken up sometime around 5am and had been trying to get herself mentally ready for this class since she couldn't sleep. She was far too worried about how the class would go. Would she have to tell her life story or would they just move on to coping with her past, but not asking any questions about it? She hoped it was the latter, but she had no clue what was in store for her. She had never been to therapy or group therapy or anything like that, so this, though definitely needed, was a scary thing.<br/><br/>In the classroom, she sat quietly, her leg bouncing beneath the table and her fingers gripping the ends of her sleeves, using them to hide her scars. She was trying to dress differently and had decided to try not wearing gloves today. It may have been too much of a step, considering that taking this class was a big step in itself. Her sweater was bright white, far from the usual dark colors she was used to wearing. The fabric hung down one freckled shoulder, which got pulled down further as she had pulled the sleeves down. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stared down at the table, not looking up at anyone. Her blue-gray eyes focused on one spot, unblinking for the majority of the time until Ms. Desjardins spoke.<br/><br/>Her eyes remained lowered to the table, but not as focused as she listened to the role call, simply raising her hand when her name was spoken. She didn't speak.<br/><br/>Class began and Ms. Desjardins asked the class a question, but she still said nothing.<br/><br/>She looked over the syllabus as it was mentioned and froze as it was mentioned that they would be sharing. She gripped her sleeves tightly and forced herself to stay sitting, having been tempted to get up without a word and leave the class; She knew that she needed this. After calming herself enough to release the fabric of her sweater, she looked up to the chalkboard to read the words written on it. Her right hand lifted and touched her bangs, pressing them to her cheek and making sure her scar was hidden. Those words on the board immediately made her think of it. She knew that she wouldn't be able to hide it forever. Of all her scars, it was the one scar that she worried about others seeing more than anything. It made her feel ugly. It made her worry about people staring. The pain was still there - not physically, but mentally. She still had moments when she remembered the day it happened. She still remembered the feeling of the hot knife carving into her face, the scent of burning flesh, the screams from her mother as she begged him to stop doing this.<br/><br/>She closed her eyes and lowered her head again as tears fell onto the paper in front of her. This class was going to be painful.<br/><br/>A girl at her table spoke up, giving Tess the opportunity to wipe her eyes as everyone focused on her. She made sure her bangs were still in place before using the fabric of her sweater to pat dry the wet spots on her syllabus. She didn't want anyone to notice that she had been crying in class. Especially considering no one had even shared a story yet.