Short Story Segments

Facades.

Despite the fact that inside, she was breaking apart, she faked perfection quite well. Only I, however, knew the truth.

She didn't know my name. She didn't ever pay the slightest attention to me if I passed her in the hallway. She probably wouldn't even recognize my face if she had to.

But it's alright because that's how it's supposed to be.

It stunned me that with all the signs, no one ever noticed. Not one person saw the pain visible in her slowing dulling brown eyes. Not one person noticed the bruises, the cuts, the scars. They just chose to see the surface, the shallow facade she put on. They didn't care enough to look further. And she knew that. 

She pulled the green woolen hat over her head, and surreptiously tugged at the hem of her shirt and sleeves. Pasting a grin on her face, she fingered the strap of her bookbag and turned with the rest of them to leave. 

As she reached the door, she looked back once and caught my eye. Her lips curled up softly in a small, sad smile before she bowed her head and left.

I never saw that girl again.