To Keep You

To Burn And Class

Stella's P.O.V

I sit in the back of the class; my hair is dark, and my eyes are light. My personality is as mysterious as the very air we breathe. I am weak; therefore, I must be mean, for I fear others will see the weakness I feel. Others shine like the sun and desire for people to flock towards their warmth. I do not desire to be the sun nor warm. Rather, I want to be like winter, cold and harsh. Few can survive my presence, and those that don't could not stand my icy temperament. 

Who am I?

I have loved no one, and yet many have loved me. Love is a waste of time; it only gets in the way. To crave love is to be stupid, for you gain nothing from love but war.

Who am I?

To love money is a sin, and yet I use the mere worldly object as my own personal mask. For no one questions nor cares about the pain of a rich girl. They say money buys happiness, it also buys silence.

Who am I?

Truthfully, I've been asking myself that question for nearly fifteen years. Who am I? From an outsider's point of view, I am a spoiled rich girl from Greenland who has never been told no a day in her life. What a lie that is. I have been rich for less than four years. I was once a poor girl on the streets of Nuuk, and then a miracle happened, Anaana died.

Many miss the dead, but I am not one of the many. I feel as if God did me a favor by removing Anaana from the earth, for if he hadn't, then surely her blood would be on my hands.

The sound of a bell ringing abruptly jerks me from my thoughts and opens my eyes to the scene before me. I'm thrown into a packed hallway with students flowing both south and north. They seemed to be in their own worlds and did not flinch away from shoving into both everyone else and even myself. I wanted to open my mouth and toss unkind words in their direction, but as quickly as they appeared, they were gone, lost in the sea of teenagers.

Spinning around, I attempted to discover where I was, but all I saw through the cracks in the crowd were purple lockers and marble floors. I nearly wanted to scream out of frustration, for I was claustrophobic and being tossed about as if I was no more than a doll at a tea party.

"Are you lost?"

Spinning around hasty, I come face to face with a man well over six-feet-tall. He wore thin rimmed glasses, a pale blue dress shirt, a black tie, and grey slacks. His black shoes reflected the light, and I was nearly blinded by them.

I frowned, "Where am I?"

Smiling, he glanced around as if he understood my confusion, "School of course."

He spoke the words with great ease as if he had already anticipated the question. It confused me truly, I've never seen this man before. He was older and handsome. Truly, if I wasn't in self-denial about my daddy issues, then I would be climbing this man as he were a tree. However, I have self-control and self-respect for this man is a teacher and therefore is poor.

Now, how can a poor man provide me with the lifestyle I deserve?

I could not control my eyes as they furrowed while this strange man offered his arm towards myself, "It's a lovely day. How about we take a stroll around the grounds, yeah?"

He had an accent that, even as a foreigner myself, I've never heard before. Perhaps it's one that is only heard within the lands of this country?