Nothing’s going to happen

The sleek, polished floors of the modeling school gleamed under the bright studio lights, each step I took producing an almost echo-like click that felt far too loud in the tense silence of my mind. I tried to focus, I really did.

The instructor's voice was crisp, cutting through the stillness as she demonstrated the correct way to walk the runway.

But the more I focused on her words, the more they felt distant, as if I were listening through a muffled speaker, my thoughts too loud, too chaotic, drowning out everything around me.

I was on edge, every muscle in my body tightly coiled, waiting for something anything to happen. After the events of the previous night, my nerves were shot, and despite Isabel's reassurance, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

My skin prickled, my pulse thrummed just beneath the surface, and even the bright, airy space of the classroom felt stifling, like the walls were pressing in on me.