Broken Silence

Epilogue

When I first saw her, I didn't see her face, I saw the black hoodie.

Zack was saying something that even now I couldn't say what it was, because my attention had been brought to a black shape that materialized amongst the sea of students. It balled into itself, walking close to the lockers, trying to make itself as small as possible. The rest of the students passing beside it, as if they couldn't see it.

I was intrigued.

There were students that liked to wear black in school, but they usually hung out together. Far away from the rest of the student body. I talked to some of them... although I knew and it was obvious they didn't like me. My grandmother says I'm too stubborn for my own good. I am.

After a few weeks of seeing it, I found myself constantly searching for the intriguing black shape. That lone person that didn't seem to have any friends. When I asked Zack about it, he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. What that black shape really that invisible? How could no one be seeing it? Was I going crazy?

Imagine my surprise when I saw it in my Parenthood class, sitting in the back of the classroom, its face turned away from my searching eyes, staring out the window. I wasn't crazy. The long dark hair and the delicate hands that rested on its head made me think it was a girl, but I could've been wrong.

A few times, I had tried to come closer, meet the person inside the mysterious black hoodie, but each time my attempt was blocked by someone wanting to know something. It infuriated me. I was too curious. So, of course, I did what any sane person with curiosity would do.

I followed it.

I shouldn't have, but I followed it.

I found it sitting in the library, its head resting on its forearms, a closed horror novel in front of it. As I slowly walked towards it, I was careful not to seem too suspicious. I honestly didn't think I was doing a good job, but that didn't stop me.

I looked around to make sure no one would stop me and approached it as if it was an exotic animal, like Steve Irwin would. Except I wasn't going to poke it with a stick and make it angry. I just wanted to know who it was.

It was shaking. It was crying. That made me feel... weird. I saw the backpack next to it had a name sharpied on it, "Noelle". A girl. My black shape was a girl. She was still crying. I didn't know what to do... Wake her up. I decided to wake her up.

"Hey, Hey." I carefully said, lightly shaking its –her shoulder. She woke up startled, but made no sound.

Plain.

That was the first thing that came to my mind as I stared at her red face. Her nose was red and she sniffed, delicately wiping her tears away. Her long, dark hair was a mess around her face and clung to her wet cheeks. Her light, brown eyes surrounded by a halo of red from the crying. Her eyes.

Not plain.

"Are you okay? I saw you crying."

For the second before she tore her eyes away from me and looked down, I saw too much.

There was too much sadness in those eyes that had nothing to do with the fact that she had been crying.

There was too much hate for someone our age. I had known that hate and sadness; knew what it did to a person, knew how it destroyed a person.

I have to help her.

I tried making friends with her, but soon found out she had a strange dislike for talking. This just made me try harder. I really was too stubborn for my own good.