It started in the girls’ changing room after gym. Standing on the cold tile floor while scrubbing off the sweat with a wet wipe. I’ve been here so many times my movements are automatic, almost involuntary, whilst I am in my own mind, milling the minutes until next period. My movements halted, I was scared. Am I trapped? Dying? Using my joints is now similar to the clicking in place of metal gears. Click click click. My first instinct was to hide until I could regain my composure. An unknown sickness took over me. The girls can’t see me like this, it’s too much. They’ll look down on my weakness. “Adina?” It slithers in and out of my ears like…