Spoiled and Broken

Introduction

It was hard enough to watch, let alone to feel. Control was not something well responded to, as tugs on a too short leash were. But still eye contact never broke, nor did stance. Voice faltered, but there was no sign of anything else joining it. Not anymore.

These were the things she wanted to say. These were the things she wanted to feel. Strong, able to face her fears and know it was okay to be afraid. It was so easy to write what she felt, so why was it so hard to act how she felt? In her head, she was loud. She was always arguing and debating, screaming and throwing tantrums. But where would that have gotten her in any other position that was better than where she was now? How would anything be better for acting on these thoughts? So instead she stayed quiet, she listened and she observed while in her head she always felt at least 10 steps ahead. Had heard so much that now she could predict what she would hear next from those she listened to every day. It was no different for her. Ever.

Her name was Mantha. No, not Martha, like everyone wanted to read it as. Mantha. It was African, Chichewa to be exact. You would think she would be able to have some skin colour with a name like that, and yet the only colour she actually ever got to her skin was freckles and sunburn. Beyond that, people often wondered how it was she managed to be so pale. Did she use clown makeup? Did she never go outside as a child? Well, neither really were the answer for the question everyone thought was the answer. The truth of it all was simply that her mother was a ginger with very little skin colour just as she was, and her father was not much darker. In all sense of the word, Mantha truly was just pale. Even her eyes were an odd, pale blue where you sometimes couldn't tell where her iris ended and her sclera began were it not for the grey ring surrounding it that was darker than both options.

Her hair was an odd shade of brown, neither light nor dark. She wished it would make up its mind as to what colour it was. though, because she was tired of looking in the mirror and seeing the ginger light through each strand, then in a store mirror later catch it looking as green as the undertones in her black jacket she always had with her. She was by no means tall, more on the beginnings of the short side instead. It was irritating for her, but Mantha wasn't the shortest of her friends at leas. That would really be a dampen on spirits. Luckily, she got to tease her best friend instead over being the shortest between them. It was an odd ritual, but it always seemed to have both their spirits lifted by the end of the teasing.

Mantha was not known by many. At least not well known. There were plenty who would say hi, watch her as she went about her day and would recognize her if they saw her. Not that her constant use of all black clothing and dark makeup looks could ever be mistaken as any other's. Beyond that, there were really only five that knew beyond that, and they were each at varying levels of depth into her mental state. Two just beginning, Victor and Tam. One who was constantly getting just deep enough to decide to leave, Aileen. And two who were able to read her almost entirely for the most part, Mati and Keli. They were the ones important to her, whether they got to know the depths of her mind and ran away or not. And in all honesty, she knew this was not her own story. Not just her own anyway. You could never have a decent story without the need for others to cause other things to go besides sit around and think all day.