Girls, they were with smiles broadly drawn on their faces. It was their signature looks, their gleeful faces.
They strutted around the classes as if they owned them, they laughed out loud with no care of the world. And sassy they were, ready to roast like soldiers on weapon ready to fight their enemies. Their grins always lit up to brighten any faces. They brought a ray of light of their own, even on a cloudy, moody, dark days.
But no one, not single of any saw it was a mask they wore to cover. It was a wall built with layers and layers of cover. The person that hid behind those cried for help, to save them.
The pain they endure, the pain my. . .my. . . it's cry of help. They are drowning in the ocean of their sufferings. Maybe they lost their loved one in the past, or maybe there is no one to listen to them or maybe it can be a dysfunctioned family too.
They are many like that, not just them. They are not the first of that kind whom I met neither the last they would be.
❛ Why built that wall my dear, when no one is trying to break it in the first place. ❜
YOU ARE READING
Playing With Fire
Short Story❝I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.❞ ―Oscar Wilde A place where broken hearts reside and stories behind them. . .
