Mysophobia

I have to be clean.

I have to be clean.

I have to be clean.

I need to be clean.

My head was screaming at me, as I climbed out of the dumpster. Julian piled out after me. We were both brushing food and milk off of us. I cautiously pulled off my scarf, hoodie, and gloves, knowing that if I left them on, they would only get more and more dirty.

Julian looked at me, confused, “Want me to walk you home?”

“Only if you want to,” I muttered, suddenly feeling insecure with the lack of layers.

It was cold, but I couldn’t just wear clothing covered in germs. I pulled my arms into my chest, trying to keep as warm as possible.

Julian murmured something softly.

“What?” I asked, wanting him to repeat himself.

He bit his lip, “I know you wouldn’t want to, but to help stay warm, we could hold each other. I mean, I know a lot about Mysophobia from you, but I don’t want you getting sick, and we are already as germ-infested as we’re going to get for right now.”

I looked over at him. He had also pulled off his hoodie and was in a short sleeve shirt, his body shaking from the cold. I moved closer to him, and I let him wrap his arms around me. We walked to my house, our bodies clinging together. My body was tingling, begging to be cleaned.

We had to pry away from each other, pulling at our clothing. We were sticking to each other, thanks to the old milk.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Julian sighed, pulling his hoodie close to his body.

I nodded, “Yeah, bye.”

I ran into the house, trying to avoid my mother. I ran to the bathroom, and I pulled off all my clothing. I turned the water on and climbed in, knowing the water would be cold against my skin for a few moments as it warmed up. I scrubbed all the dirt off of me and washed my hair three times before climbing out. I wrapped a towel around my waist, and I snuck into my room. I quickly got dressed and laid down in my bed.

“Skyler, sweetie, are you alright?” My mother asked, coming into my room, “You didn’t even tell me you came home.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, “I’m just tired.”

“Oh, well, alright.” She frowned, wanting me to talk to her more.

I sighed, “Mom, school was fine. Julian and I hung out a little.”

My mother left, a little more satisfied, to look dinner. She had asked me if I wanted anything specifically. I told her that I would eat whatever she made. She smiled, and she left me alone.

My mind wandered off to Averi. Why is he so mean to me? What did I ever do to him in the first place? Was it when we were in seventh grade, when I called him a prick for slamming me into a wall? Or was it just the fact that I have Mysophobia? That would be stupid. I can’t help that. Was it because, in ninth grade, I came out and said I was attracted to boys? Whatever, it’s his choice. I shouldn’t let it bother me.

I shut my eyes and rolled over onto my stomach. I felt sick: I was really hungry. I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. I did have time. I just didn’t want my mother making sure I ate a huge breakfast, or something healthy. In the morning, I don’t want to eat anything overly-filling.

I could feel my eyes closing, and I didn’t try to keep them open. I let them close, listening to the soft ticking of the clock. I could feel myself drifting to sleep, but my mother shook me awake. Dinner must be ready.