𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙉𝙤 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙚𝙨 ... [𝗨𝗣𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘]

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮: 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲

The days at school feel both comforting and empty. I walk through the halls, watching my classmates laugh, and wonder if they feel as heavy inside as I do. Some of them say hi, and I smile back, doing my best to keep up the act. They don't know that every day I carry around this big, invisible weight. I've gotten good at hiding it—pretending nothing's wrong. Sometimes, I think even my teachers notice, their eyes looking a little too long when I hand in homework. I keep my head down and walk quickly between classes, hoping no one ever gets close enough to ask if I'm okay.

One day after school, I stay a little longer in the library to work on a project with my friend Mia. She's someone who feels safe, like she doesn't ask too many questions but still notices things. The library feels like a good place, with its quiet aisles and rows of books. For just a bit, I feel free. We laugh at something silly, and it's like I've left my worries outside the door, just for a little while.

But when I look at the clock and realize I'm late, dread wraps around me like a heavy blanket. I know I should go straight home, but my feet feel so heavy. I wish I could stay here forever, hidden among books, but I know I can't. Slowly, I make my way out, dragging my feet as long as I can, hoping that maybe, somehow, things will be okay when I get home.

As soon as I walk through the door, I know I've made a mistake. My dad is waiting for me, his face twisted in anger. He doesn't even ask where I've been. He just starts yelling, throwing every insult he can think of, assuming the worst of me without giving me a chance to explain. My heart feels like it's breaking. I want to scream that it's not fair, that I just wanted to stay a bit longer at school. But I don't. I stay quiet, staring at the ground, hoping if I don't say anything, he'll just go away.

But he doesn't go away. The yelling only gets louder, filling every corner of the house. I wonder if my mom hears it from the kitchen. If she does, she doesn't come to help. She never does. She just stays there, silent and distant, like she doesn't see or hear any of it. I feel so alone, like I'm drowning, and nobody even notices.

Finally, my dad leaves, slamming the door as he goes. I slump to the floor, feeling exhausted and broken. I want to cry, but even the tears won't come. Instead, there's this numbness, like my heart has gone completely cold. I sit there for a long time, feeling lost and empty, wondering why this is my life.

When I finally drag myself to my room, I open my laptop, the one place where I feel like I can say what's really happening. I type furiously, spilling everything onto the screen. I write about the anger, the sadness, the confusion. I write about my dreams of leaving this place, of starting a new life somewhere far, far away.

But then, this terrible question pops into my head, and I can't shake it. Does anyone care? If people knew, would they even care? Would someone try to help? The thought makes me feel a little less alone, but it's just a thought. I'm scared to tell anyone, scared that even if they knew, they wouldn't believe me or understand.

So I keep it all locked up inside, letting my journal be the only place that sees my real self, the hurt and anger I carry every day. It's like I'm trapped in a shadow, waiting for a day when I'll finally feel the sun on my face again.