Pressure by K. M., Hanover, MA

The door rattled as it slammed shut and the lock on the knob clicked. She gave a sigh of relief as she leaned against the closed door. Lately her room had become a haven; a place where she could be alone and forget everything she hated to think about. She turned the volume on the radio up a notch, drowning her thoughts in the heavy beat of the song. She could hear her mother calling her name faintly from downstairs, but she pretended not to notice.

Every night was the same, beginning with an argument with her parents and ending with her running up the stairs to lock herself in her room. Every argument was the same too. Her parents were always lecturing her on the best colleges and how important the right school was for her future. She knew college was important, but did it have to be discussed every night? Even her friends talked about it.

Senior year had crept up on her almost as fast as she wished it would end. She thought it was supposed to be one of the best years of her life, but so far it qualified as one of the worst. She wished she could fast forward to the summer when all her worries would be over. She would already be accepted to a college, and the hard part, like applications and the anxiety of waiting to be accepted, would be over. Unfortunately that was utterly impossible. She collapsed on her bed exhausted from thinking about schools.

She awoke to a loud banging on the door and the sound of her mother's voice ordering her to come downstairs and finish filling out applications. What seemed to be only five minutes of rest had really been an hour of sleep. It was nine o'clock and her little sister cried as her father put her to bed. She thought how ironic it was that when she was younger, she would beg to stay up later, but now she wished she could sleep and forget about all the pressure.