• She sat in the corner of her room with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She rested her head on her knees, sobbing. Her room lay in disarray. Clothing was strewn across her floor, shoes carelessly thrown from her closet, drawers absent from her dressers, her sheets and pillows piled haphazardly on what was left of her floor. The never ending flow of tears blurred her vision. The volume of her Ipod was turned up so loud it was nearly deafening, only making the pounding pain in her head worse.

    “Dirt…” She muttered. She sniffled and whipped her nose on her sleeve. “It’s everywhere…”

    She chanced a glance at her hands. They felt filthy, horribly dirty. The reasonable voice in her mind told her she was fine. There was no way her hands could be dirty, at least not as bad as she believed. But there was another voice. It sounded just like her reasonable voice, but this one whispered, taunted, and persuaded her.

    “Look at all those germs…it’s disgusting! You shook that man’s hand today…his germs are on you!” it taunted.

    “Shut up!” She yelled, “Leave me alone!”

    “You know what’ll happen if you don’t wash your hands…”

    “Stop it! Shut up! Stop!” she sobbed.

    “Just a little soap and water, that’s all it’ll take to purge your hands of the dirt, just a little soap and water…”

    She looked at her hands, they were red and chafed. She had rubbed them raw, trying to brush off the invisible germs that covered her.

    “Look at those germs…All of that dirt. Who would want to be so filthy?” It cooed softly in her ear.

    With a loud cry she stood up and clambered to her bathroom, nearly tripping on everything that covered her floor. She turned on her sink and poured the soap container on her hands, rubbing hard. The water was scorching hot, but she didn’t care. She scrubbed harder, trying to rid her hands of the deadly dirt that covered them.

    “That’s right…you’ll be clean soon. You’ll be fine, no more germs,” the voice whispered.

    She listened, bought everything it told her. Just keep scrubbing and everything would be fine, she’d be clean and safe. The water was steaming hot, she felt it now. The water burnt her hands as she continued to scrub, continued in vain to rid her hands of the germs she feared so much. She cried harder, washing the soap and germs from her hands. It burned, horribly, but it had to be done. She had to be clean.

    Temporarily satisfied, she turned off the water and looked down at her hands. They were red and small blisters began to show on the skin that was rubbed raw.

    “Look at this! Look at what you made me do!” She screamed at her reflection.

    “I didn’t make you do anything. You did it on your own, to be clean. I gave you the soap and water; you did what had to be done. I didn’t force you to do anything. If you weren’t so weak maybe you’d…”

    “Shut up, why don’t you just leave me alone!?” she yelled, sobbing harder.

    “I keep you clean. Without me you would be living like a pig. You need me to keep you in line. Now let’s clean your room. You’ll be fine, safe, from the dangers of dirt and germs. I promise all you need to do is clean your room.”

    She gave in, too tired to fight. It promised everything would be fine, maybe it was right, she hoped it was. Gently she dried her hands and walked back into her room.

    Her head began to spin, the mess was overwhelming. She felt nauseous as she looked at the disaster area that was her room. She began to shake, her breath coming out in short gasps, the tears continued to flow, to sting her blood shot eyes. She stumbled to her bed; she had to sit down before she fainted.

    “Get a hold of yourself, girl! Do you want to live like this? Like a slob?” The voice scolded her.

    She didn’t reply. She was too weak to think of a response. Instead she walked slowly over to her Ipod and turned up the music. She took a deep breath, tried to calm down, and began to dutifully clean her room.

    Three hours passed; she had cleaned everything off of her floor and put everything in their correct spots. She sat on her freshly made bed, exhausted.

    “Don’t you feel better?” the nagging voice asked.

    She didn’t answer, she had found that if she ignored it sooner or later it would eventually get bored and take the back seat, shut up at last. But she had to admit, she did feel somewhat better. There was a sense of power in knowing she could manipulate things, put them where she wanted them, and position them the way she wanted.

    Calmness settled over her. She looked around her perfectly manicured room, nothing was out of place, not a single dust bunny could be found. In her hysteria she had grabbed the bottle of Pledge and sprayed it on every wood surface of her room, even her doors, in attempt to purge her room of the dirt and germs the dust carried. Her room reeked nauseatingly of pledge, but she didn’t mind.

    She had created a sanctuary, a safe haven where she could manipulate everything to her liking. She felt content, no more tears to cry, everything was in order.

    She sat there with a twisted smile on her face; she had found the way to get rid of her anxiety. She wasn’t going to be stupid and start to binge eat or starve herself. No, she was going to make sure everything was in order. She was happy and calm. If anything went wrong all she would have to do was clean. Cleaning was safe; cleaning was what gave her power. All was in its proper place, anxiety calmed and forgotten for the moment. She got up from her bed and walked out of her room as if nothing happened, a sense of power in her ability to keep order in her stride.