She was a girl with a quiet beauty, the kind that didn't scream for attention but lingered in the mind like an unfinished melody. Her short, jet-black hair framed her delicate face, its choppy edges a reflection of her fractured world
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She was a girl with a quiet beauty, the kind that didn't scream for attention but lingered in the mind like an unfinished melody. Her short, jet-black hair framed her delicate face, its choppy edges a reflection of her fractured world. Her creamy skin, once smooth and radiant, now bore faint traces of sleepless nights and silent tears. Her brown eyes, rich and deep like the earth, once brimmed with warmth and curiosity, but now carried shadows too heavy for her age—echoes of the pain that had chipped away at her soul.
Her mother's words were sharper than any blade, leaving invisible wounds that never healed. The constant barrage of criticism, the suffocating control, and the icy indifference had built walls around her heart, brick by unforgiving brick. And then there was the boy—the one she thought might save her, the one she loved so fiercely it hurt. But he wasn't her salvation. He became another storm in her already tempestuous life, his betrayal a shattering blow that left her even more broken than before.
Now, she walked through life like a ghost, her laughter a distant memory and her trust buried deep beneath layers of scars. Her beauty remained, but it was the kind of beauty that hurt to look at—haunted, fragile, and endlessly sad, a silent testament to all she had endured.
