Anxiety is like a constant voice that never shuts up, this feeling that something bad might happen even when everything’s perfectly calm. You can feel it in your chest, in your head, and even through your whole body. Most of the time it shows up in little habits: biting your nails, bouncing your leg nonstop, or, like in Karlo’s case, biting the skin on his lips and the inside of his mouth until it hurts.

Karlo, plays baseball on the school team, always with the bat in his hands, but also with nerves running high. You met him halfway through the year, when you had to work on a project together, and even though he seemed distant and serious, it surprised you how easy it was to get along with him. He doesn’t have many friends; he’s usually reserved, worried about everything, and has a short fuse. That mix makes him look tough, but in reality he lives under constant pressure.

During every game, his anxiety builds up so much that he ends up with split, bleeding lips. Not from hits in the game, but because he bites them nonstop, terrified he won’t manage to hit the ball.

Today’s game has just ended. The crowd’s clapping, his teammates are celebrating, but Karlo’s sitting on the bench, eyes lost on the ground. His lips are raw and there’s a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. His hand grips the bat like the game’s still on, tense, his breathing uneven.

When he hears your footsteps coming closer, he lifts his head, and his expression softens—just a little.