Ochlophobia

I practically skipped into the kitchen, but stopped dead. There would be four people in the kitchen alone if I went in. Too many. There should only ever be three in the house. Two in the kitchen, three in the front room, one in the bathroom, one in my bedroom, two in my parent’s. But not all of them at once. That would be nine people. Three. My breathing sped up horrendously as I came to this realisation, suddenly feeling like the house was just too small. And then I saw who was there. My mother stood, pouring coffee into two mugs; a woman sat chattering at the breakfast bar, talking about the place they’d moved from and sat beside her was the boy I’d seen this morning. Once more, the breath I was taking in stopped in my throat and I stared for a minute.

“Mum.”

My mother quickly turned to me, a guilty look on her face.

“Why don’t you go in the back yard Ryan? It’s nice and spacious out there.”

I nodded, but stared in the kitchen, before gesturing.

“That means I have to go through there. I’ll go around the front.”

I turned and grabbed my jacket off the side, pulling it on lazily as I wandered to the front door. I turned the key in the lock, anticipating the ‘click’ that meant I could leave. Just as I did so, the front door flung open, revealing my Dad. He swayed slightly, and I could smell the waves of alcohol rolling off him. I backed away, feeling him get too close for comfort.

“Dad, please, move away.”

He shook his head and I shivered, bolting upstairs to my room. He caught me, and that feel of being crowded took over. This time I didn’t hesitate. I screamed loudly, hyperventilating and sobbing loudly.

“Please Dad! Let me go!”

I could smell sweat and sex as I was held tightly, crying and hoping someone would help me.

“Let him go George! You know he’s scared!”

My mother. A saviour if there ever was one.

“He’s going to have to get used to it sometime! Good for nothing pansy” he spat viciously, dropping me and slamming his foot into my back. I let out a yelp and curled into a ball.

Finally, my mother chased him out the house, ignoring our bemused house guests.

“Are you ok, Ryan? Your meds are upstairs if you need them…”

I shivered, trying to calm my breathing.

“I’ll be fine. Paper bag!” I called, thinking of something that would help me.

“What’s… what’s going on?”

The boy peered through those adorable red framed glasses, and I found myself inspecting what colour his eyes were. They were a deep brown, expressive and wonderful. My breathing, something I hadn’t been thinking of for a minute or so suddenly slowed. It was normal again.

“I… I’m an oclophobic. It means I’m scared of crowds of people or mobs. My real fear is being lost in a crowd, but it’s got so severe that I can’t be in a ‘crowd’,” I made bunny ears with my hands, “even if it’s a crowd of about three people. For example, this hallway? Two people. That’s why my mum is currently taking yours through to the kitchen. The entire house should be three. But that rule is relaxed a little, sometimes. I have my good days, and I have my bad, like any illness.” I shrugged lightly, and sighed. “Anyway despite that bad start, I’m Ryan.”

I offered my hand out, and the boy took it.

“Brendon.”

I nodded, and smiled at him, getting up, and ready to pull him into the garden.

“Well, Brendon, let’s go outside.”