The final bell rang like an empty promise. For everyone else, it was freedom—voices lifting in excitement, footsteps rushing toward the exits. For her, it was just another reminder that even escape didn't feel like escape. She gathered her books slowly, careful not to drop anything, careful not to draw attention.
The hallways echoed with laughter and conversations she wasn't part of. Her fake friends had already peeled away in their separate groups, leaving her with nothing but the faint echo of their voices drifting farther down the corridor. She didn't say goodbye. She never did.
Outside, the air was cool, heavy with the smell of wet pavement. She walked the same way she had that morning—shoulders hunched, head lowered, watching the cracks in the sidewalk as if they were a map she could never quite read. Students passed her in clusters, talking about parties, plans, and people who seemed to matter more than she ever could. No one noticed her slipping between them like a shadow.
When she finally reached home, the silence hit her harder than the noise ever had. The door creaked open into a space that felt less like shelter and more like emptiness stretched into walls. She dropped her bag by the door, its weight thudding against the floor, and stood there for a moment, staring at the nothingness around her.
Her room was the only place that knew her—the walls lined with half-finished drawings, notebooks filled with words no one would read, the faint smell of dust and laundry that never seemed to leave. She collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The laughter from lunch replayed in her head, the word bitch sharp and heavy, cutting deeper each time. She could still feel their eyes, still hear the whispers, still taste the silence she had swallowed with her food.
For a moment, she thought about crying. But the tears didn't come. They rarely did anymore. Instead, she lay there, numb, letting the hours crawl past like a slow tide. Outside her window, the world went on—cars passing, neighbors walking, the sky dimming into a dull smear of gray.
She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket over herself even though it wasn't cold. Wrapped tight, she could almost imagine she didn't exist at all.
And maybe, she thought, that would be easier.