Shadows Of The Past

Chapter 1: Childhood bonds

Since I was little, Taryn, Dyla, and I were inseparable. We lived in the same neighborhood, attended the same elementary school, and spent countless hours playing and sharing secrets. Our trio was known for our tight bond, and we promised each other that nothing would ever come between us.

Middle school brought changes I hadn't anticipated. While Taryn and Dyla ended up in the same class, I found myself in a different one. The separation was shocking. My days became a routine of loneliness; I ate my lunch alone, feeling like an outcast as I watched my two best friends laugh together from a distance.

Our brief interactions during lunch were polite but short, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being left out. Despite my attempts to make new friends, I couldn't find anyone I connected with as deeply as I did with Taryn and Dyla.

After four long years, Taryn, Dyla, and I found ourselves in the same class again. My heart filled with joy and hope. I imagined things would go back to how they used to be. The three of us started eating lunch together, laughing, and walking home as a group. It felt like a piece of my heart had been restored.

I admired Taryn deeply. I thought Taryn was smarter, funnier, and more interesting than Dyla. I tried to get closer to Taryn, hoping to form a special connection. But I soon noticed that Taryn and Dyla often had private conversations, whispering and giggling behind my back. I felt a pang of hurt but tried to brush it off, telling myself they must have personal things to discuss.

As the weeks passed, the initial joy of being in the same class with Taryn and Dyla began to fade. They often talked and laughed without me, leaving me feeling like an outcast. The familiar ache of loneliness settled in my chest, making each school day a challenge to endure.

The class teacher's birthday was approaching, and some girls decided to organize a celebration. I watched from a distance as they planned, laughing and chatting excitedly. I decided to take this opportunity and make new friends since Taryn and dyla were busy in their own world. Summoning my courage, I approached them, my heart pounding in my chest. "Can I join you in planning the birthday party?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful.

The girls exchanged glances, and one of them, Emma, spoke up. "Uh, Zara, we already have enough people."

I felt a pang of rejection but pressed on. "I can contribute too. I'll give all my pocket money for the party."

Their eyes widened in shock. "All of it?" Emma repeated. "That's a lot."

Desperation clawed at me. "Yes, all of it. And if I don't, you can give me 100 slaps."

The girls hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with my offer, but the allure of the extra money won them over. "Okay, Zara, if you insist," Emma finally said.

That evening, I went home and secretly gathered all my pocket money. I handed it to the girls at school the next day, feeling a twisted sense of relief that I was now included, even if it came at a high cost.

Days later, my mom asked me where my pocket money was, guilt took at me. I had kept this from my parents, and it felt wrong. Summoning my courage, I decided to tell my mother, but fear made me twist the truth. "Mom, the girls at school threatened me," I said, my voice trembling. "They said if I didn't give them my pocket money, they'd give me 100 slaps."

My mother's face turned pale with concern and anger. "What? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was scared," I admitted, tears welling up in my eyes.

Determined to get to the bottom of this, my mother talked to the other parents. The truth soon came out: I had offered my pocket money voluntarily.

Furious and disappointed, my mother confronted me. "Why did you lie, Zara? Do you know how serious this is?"

Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to explain. "Mom, you don't understand. I feel so alone at school. I just wanted to be included. I thought... I thought if I gave them my money, they would like me."

Her expression softened slightly, but her disappointment was still evident. "Zara, buying friendship isn't the answer. You need to find friends who appreciate you for who you are, not for what you can give them."

I nodded, feeling a mix of shame and relief. Shame for my actions and relief that my mother now knew the depth of my loneliness. No one truly understood how it felt to be an outcast, to desperately seek acceptance in any form.

From that moment on, I vowed to be more honest with my feelings and to seek friendships based on mutual respect and understanding. It was a painful lesson, but one that I hoped would guide me toward healthier relationships in the future.

(To be continued)