The Mask We Wear

Lyra (Episode 1)

I sat at my desk, chin resting on my palm, eyes fixed on the green-stained ceiling above me. The old patches of dirt looked like scars, etched into the surface over time—just like the ones I carried inside. I searched those stains for some sense of peace, some quiet in the chaos, but there was nothing. Only silence. My gaze fell to the diary lying open before me, its empty pages waiting, just like I was—waiting for words, waiting for something to make sense again.

The air in the room felt thick, and I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself. There was no turning back now. I had to let it out, all of it, before it consumed me entirely. My fingers hovered over the page, hesitating, trembling slightly, as if they too feared the weight of what was about to be written. Finally, I picked up the pen and began to write:
“Imagine a bomb strapped to your wrist, ticking in time with your pulse. Every beat, every second, drags on, knowing that the moment you move, it’s over—your life, your world, obliterated in an instant. I used to ask myself, could anyone see it? Could anyone see the cracks spreading through me, or was I the only one who noticed? I used to question everything, but now, none of that matters.

I gave him everything—my heart, my trust, my future—and in return, he left me with nothing. How could I have been so blind? So easily fooled? I always seem to be the one getting played, the one left holding the broken pieces. And in trying to destroy him, I only ended up destroying myself. Shattered, beyond repair.

The way back? It’s gone. Erased. All that’s left now is this—a void, a darkness that swallows everything. I stopped wondering whether it was my fault or his a long time ago. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I won’t let him walk away. He won’t get to live in peace while I rot here
This is my promise."
I closed the cap of my pen, the weight of memories flooding my mind. I reflected on everything he had done, tracing the journey of our relationship from its hopeful beginnings to its painful conclusion. I remembered the struggles we faced together, the laughter we shared, and the moments that once filled my heart with joy. But as the memories unraveled, I was confronted with the harsh reality of how it all ended, how he betrayed me in the most profound way, leaving me feeling shattered and lost.

Tears blurred my vision as I relived those moments, each flashback a reminder of the trust I had placed in him. I felt the exhaustion of it all wash over me, and I didn't know when I drifted off, overwhelmed by the weight of my thoughts. When I woke the next morning, my head resting on my diary and the pen still clutched in my hand, I found myself surrounded by the echoes of my reflections. Despite the pain that lingered, I realized that I had poured my heart onto those pages. In that moment, I understood it was okay to grieve and that, with time, I would find the strength to rise again.
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"Have you heard of Ashbourne Academy?" my mom asked, glancing up from her spot on the sofa.
"Yeah, I've heard about it from a few people," I replied casually, not thinking much of it.
"I want you to consider going there," she said, her tone serious. "Do some research and let me know what you think."
"Sure, I’ll look into it when I have a moment," I promised, not giving it much thought at the time.
Later, I went into my room, powered up my computer, and started searching for Ashbourne Academy. What I found left me speechless. It wasn’t just a school—it was a place straight out of a dream. The campus was stunning, like something from another world, where you could live the life you’d always imagined. It had everything you could ever want or need, wrapped up in elegance and charm. But then reality hit—admission was fiercely competitive, and the tuition? Astronomical. On top of that, it was nearly eight hours away from home. It felt like a perfect world, just out of reach.
Ashbourne Academy was a world unto itself. Nestled in a serene landscape, it was a prestigious preparatory boarding school renowned for its high standards and strict discipline. The academy's campus was a haven of natural beauty, surrounded by towering ash trees, vibrant gardens, and tranquil streams that wound their way through the grounds. Its breathtaking architecture seamlessly blended tradition with modernity, with stately halls, ivy-covered stone buildings, and state-of-the-art facilities.
Life at Ashbourne was governed by a stringent set of rules. Both girls and boys lived in hostels located within the school grounds, bound to the campus and unable to leave until scheduled vacations. Every aspect of life at Ashbourne was dictated by the school's Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs), which ensured order and respect were maintained at all times.
Despite the rules, Ashbourne was a place of beauty and camaraderie. The atmosphere was one of disciplined focus, where students strove for excellence together under the watchful guidance of the academy's dedicated staff. The natural surroundings, with their lush greenery and peaceful streams, provided a serene backdrop to the rigorous academic programs and varied extracurricular activities.
Ashbourne Academy was not just a school—it was a world where tradition, nature, and ambition met. It was a place where students learned to excel, not just academically but also as individuals, preparing them for the challenges of the world beyond its beautiful, tree-lined boundaries.
My mom was visibly impressed, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she took in the details I shared about Ashbourne Academy. I could see the spark of hope in her gaze, mirroring my own feelings of awe. The prospect of attending such a prestigious place felt exhilarating, almost like a dream that was slowly coming to life.
"You need to start preparing for the admission test,” she said, her voice firm yet encouraging. I could sense the weight of her words, knowing that she believed in my potential and was eager to see me thrive in an environment that promised so much.
“Yeah, I suppose I should,” I replied, trying to match her enthusiasm while also grappling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The thought of the test sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. It was a significant step, and the pressure was on. But deep down, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. I wanted to make her proud and seize this opportunity.
Over the next few days, the idea of Ashbourne Academy lingered in my mind like a distant melody, captivating and haunting all at once. I could picture myself walking through its grand hallways, surrounded by like-minded peers, engaging in stimulating discussions, and diving into a world of endless possibilities. Yet, the realization of the work ahead loomed large. I knew I had to hit the books and prepare myself thoroughly.
As I looked into my mom's eyes, filled with hope and pride, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I wasn’t just preparing for a test; I was on the verge of embarking on a journey that could shape my future. With every passing moment, the dream of Ashbourne Academy began to feel less like a fantasy and more like a path I was meant to walk.