Hidden Fear
January 30, 2009

A/n: I hope you enjoyed this lil short story...some of my friends said it was touching/deep iono bout that tho. lolz. well off you go =)

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

I stood there trembling in fear. This was not suppose to happen. The night before I was convinced that I was prepared. I had practiced saying my Spanish composition over and over until I was sure I had perfected it. At this very moment, everything seemed to pour out of my brain. Every little movement, word, and sound was incoherent to me.

Last night, I told myself that I had self-confidence and that I was brave. I told myself that the girl who had doubts about herself, and the one who was shy and pessimistic was gone. The cheerful, hyper, and independent girl had replaced the old me. How wrong I was to feed myself these deceiving words.

The moment I walked into Spanish class, my false words betrayed me. My wall fell and the real me emerged. I was terrified. I was panicking. And above all, I just wanted to run and skip class, but I didn't. Instead, I walked to my desk robotically, placed my books and bag down, and hid behind the person in front of me hoping that I was invisible.

Class started promptly at 10:35 A.M. and the door slammed shut, signaling us to be silent. Five minutes slowly passed. Soon, only fifteen minutes of class time remained. I let out a nervous sigh. Another minute lapse, before I knew it, only eight more minutes remained. I could feel a grin slowly form on my face, but before I could complete it; I heard my name being called. I sat in my seat, frozen in fright. "No, this isn't happening!" I screamed to myself silently, "I'm dreaming!" My name was called one more. I peered out from behind the person, and my teacher motioned me to come up. I gulped the lump forming in my throat down, and shakily made my way up to the class. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, my hands becoming clammy, and my heart beating rapidly. I eventually crossed the ten feet from my desk to the front of the room after what seemed like thirty minutes.

I looked up and scanned the room. All eyes seemed to be upon me, waiting for me to make an error so they could jeer at me. I bit my bottom lip, and silently told myself that I could do this. Instead, another voice in my head sneered, "You can't do this. You're too stupid and scared. You're going to screw up and you know it."

I opened my mouth to start reading, but I turned to my teacher asking in small voice, "Do I have to read?"

"Yes, you do," he replied while glaring at me to continue and to stop wasting precious class time.

Somehow, I managed to find my voice to object his demand. "I can't do this. Please. Let me go sit," I begged him. I was terrified. I despised this horrible position I was in. I would rather argue my way to sit down, than to actually read my composition. I could have just read it so I could spare my humiliation, but I didn't. I lost all confidence in my Spanish and I didn't want to hear myself speaking.

"No. You are going to read," he answered firmly. "Why don't you want to read? Are you scared?" I nodded in response. I thought he would let me sit down, instead, he laughed at me. He ridiculed me. He was saying how ridiculous I was to be scared of talking in front of people. He continued talking about how pathetic my fear was and that I was being scared for no reason.

Tears were forming behind my eyelids. I blinked my eyes in attempt to stop them from spilling. It was useless; a lone tear rolled my cheek. I quickly wiped it away hoping no one saw. The last thing I needed was someone seeing me cry.

The moment my teacher harshly said, "Get over it. It's nothing." My tears broke loose. They started falling involuntarily. I tried stopping them, but it wouldn't stop. I wanted to defend myself, but I felt small, stupid, and defenseless. I wanted to yell in his face, "GET OVER IT!? What do you mean get over it!? How am I suppose to get over it? Huh?! You tell me! I'm terrified. I'm shaking in pure terror. And you say its nothing…it is something to me…" I furiously wiped at my tears, and I could hear him in the background telling me to stop crying and to start reading. "Bastard," I growled at him in silence. Shockingly, I could hear the students in the class defending me. They told him to stop torturing me, and to let me sit, but he wouldn't listen. He was stubborn and determined to make my life hell.

After much persuasion from the class, he let someone else go, but I had to go after the person. I nodded in agreement, and my tears eventually stopped flowing. The moment the other student finished, I went into full-blown panic.

The rest of the class saw my fear, and encouraged me. They told me that I could do it. Slowly, they guided me through my composition, shouting encouraging words. As soon as I finished, I felt a sense of accomplishment wash over me.

I smiled at my inner self and was glad that I could overcome my shy, quiet, and lack of confidence inner me. As much as I wished the real me disappeared, it didn't. Each time I'm asked to speak in front of the class, I have to fight a battle with it. A battle that will probably never be won because the real me resides in me forever.