Ashes Reverie

II

Her body was burning up with fever. Her mother was screaming, “Flora, wake up! It’s too late now; you’re going to be late for school.” It was almost the end of winter, and birds were chirping through the window. It was half past eight. Her mother took the blanket off her, saying, “You are so dramatic. Since you were born, you need to learn some manners before it’s too late.”
She listened and woke up after her mother left the room. It was her first day of high school and her first part-time job at a coffee shop. She was neither exceptionally good nor exceptionally bad at her studies. She was eighteen now. 'Ahhhh, too many human souls and their noises,' she thinks. Her migraine started just by thinking about going outside. Her vacation had finally come to an end, and a long, busy routine day had begun.
She searched for her glasses. Her vision had blurred six years ago, and her body had always been weak since birth. Still, she was beautiful, but not in her own eyes, and she felt cursed to be a girl no one accepted.
She put on her glasses and got ready to leave.

She walked on the road, lost in her imaginary world.
Flora thought, "I want to be in my room. No work, no studies, no human voices. It’s not like I totally hate humans, nor do I love a single person. It’s something in between, because I know two or three of them who are genuinely good souls, or maybe kind souls. I’m referring to someone, but the fact never changes; humans are terrible creatures. Sometimes I get a serious urge to smash my head against a wall just to stop thinking. These thoughts come out of nowhere. Perhaps all human minds think like this, but they seem fine and never discuss anything related to what I think. Maybe I’m just a stupid person. Sometimes I wonder why I’m like this. Maybe there was a way to escape this curse. Maybe there really was some way I never tried to find. If I did, I could become everyone’s favourite, and my dad, mom, and brothers might find me useful. But I don’t need love from these relationships anymore. Maybe I started hating them a very long time ago. I don’t even know the exact name of the feeling I have right now. Yes, I want them to love me as others do, but now I feel uneasy even thinking about love from my parents. Yes, I hate them, but I still wish they would live a happy and healthy life.

She reached the door of her classroom. The teacher was already inside. She entered the classroom, and everyone looked at her.
“Why are you late, child?” the teacher questioned.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, and sat on the last chair in the class. She didn’t want to interact with anyone; that’s why she avoided eye contact and tried to listen only to her inner voice.