Prologue:
"What's the matter Zoe?" Ryan taunted. "Cat got your tongue?" I stood there silently, letting my own salty tears roll down my reddened cheeks. "Come on, say something for me, beautiful." He squeezed the sides of my face between his palms and I swatted them away. "Oh, fighting me isn't a good idea, love." Ryan slapped me across the face, knocking me to the ground. He brought his foot to my stomach repeatedly, the pain aching through my entire body. "This concludes your birthday beating!" he proclaimed with a wicked smile. A maniacal laugh rang throughout the school halls as he walked off, leaving me alone.
It's not like this is the first time this has happened. I mean, its pretty easy to bully me since I don't talk back. In fact, its probably really easy to bully me because I don't talk at all. I'm not shy and I'm not mute, I just... don't talk. I haven't said one word since I was fifteen and I'm eighteen as of today. When I was a little kid, I had one person that I would always talk to, always played with, or always went to when I was upset. But he left when I was fifteen. He didn't move or anything like that, he just joined the popular group and forgot all about me. Ironically, this mysterious "he", is Ryan. When he left, I had no one to be with. He was the only person I ever needed. So eventually, I just stopped talking all together. And... that's when the bullying started. He never tried to connect with me again, he just pushed me even further away from him.
I layed on the floor for what seemed like ages and no one even acknowledged me. But hey, who would? I sighed at the thought and struggled to get on my feet. The pain in my stomach was still apparent and I winced in pain. I gathered up my things just before the bell rang and ran off to my next class: Art. I really loved art class because I got to show what I truly felt inside without using my words. As cheesy as it sounds, that is the complete truth and I stand by it. I sprinted down so I wouldn't get caught by anyone like Ryan. When I got down there, I let out a huge sigh of relief and set down my backpack along with all my other books and took my seat at an easel.
"Okay class," my art teacher, Ms. Dunbar, began, "today I want you to create a project that describesyou. I want it to reflect your personality completely. Dig down deep into the recess of your mind and put anything that comes up onto the canvas... You may begin." I eagerly picked up my brush and acrylic paint and let my heart take control of my hand. Whatever showed up was how I felt. I painted a small child sitting in a large patch of tall grass with tape over her mouth. She was holding a butterfly with no color, it was just white. The grass represented hiding, the tape was pretty obvious of what it represented, and the white butterfly was a symbol of hope. A hope that one day I will be able to stop shielding myself from the world. A hope that I can start over again. And a hope that I can find a friend in all this madness. Yet something still felt like it was missing from the painting. Like I was putting together a puzzle and I couldn't find the last piece. I was oblivious to what I was doing with my brush, but I seemed to know what was going on at the same time. I put a small angel in the very corner of the page where you could barely see it. And I wrote lyrics from one of my favorite songs off to the side.
Your heart's against my chest
Your lips pressed to my neck
I'm falling for your eyes
But they don't know me yet
And the feeling I forget
I'm in love now
Felt so much better after finishing that up. I felt like I finally found that missing puzzle piece. I let out a satisfactory sigh, which signaled my teacher to come over. "Wonderful work, Zoe!" she exclaimed loud enough for the entire class to hear. "You are very talented!" She knew I would never respond, but she always commended me on my work anyway. I just nodded and accepted her compliment because to be honest, I was pretty proud of it myself. Something about my painting just moved me. Maybe it was the little girl. Or the butterfly. Or the angel. The lyrics kept repeating in my mind over and over again. I'm falling for your eyes but they don't know me yet. I don't know what it was about those words that I loved so much, but I just had a feeling that there would be something to happen and I would finally understand it.
Author's Note:
Hello! :)
So yeah blah blah blah, short chapter, blah blah blah.
Sorry about that!
Once I get the story up and running, no more short chapters!
Okay... that seems to be it!
Bye! :)
@let_malik_you_1D .Xx
