Mirabilia.

Prologue

The anger. The screaming. The vocal destroying of Hazel would be sectioned off. Simple and in increments. She would be reproofed then sent away. 1. 2. 3. 4. She counted. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. She mumbled. 10. She whimpered. The tears scavenging down her distressed mapped face leaving thin trails of natural skin through her makeup.

"Calm down", she demanded as she stared at the tall skinny girl in the mirror.

"Be quiet", she cringed as she met the dull gray eyes in the mirror.

"You're simply repulsing", she thought, splashing her red beating face with chilled sink water.

"Smile", she taught as if almost training another person to drag the corners of their mouth upward. She crinkles her eyes and shows her bright shining smile to herself.

"Learn to be happy", the voice growls in the back of her mind. She keeps the same glowing facial expression as she walks out of the bathroom and into the open room with familiar faces. The perked smile flowing across her thin deep red lips as her contrary bloodshot eyes darted from person to person. Oh, the irony. She's almost thanking them for the hurt they've inflicted. But that was nothing new for Hazel.

Mirabilia; marvels and/or miracles. A bitter sweetness. A joy. Something the viridescent eyed, sandy-brown haired Hazel count understand.

She was numb.

With pain.

The guilt.

The anger.

She was an eccendentesiast; at least that's what she was told.

A fake.

A puppet.

Merely an overlay.

The glassy eyed girl had nothing to be sad about, right? Not that he left. Not that they didn't understand. Not that others laughed. Not that she didn't know.

She wanted to feel alive. To be more than what she was. To feel special. To not be abandoned. To wake up and smile at the sun only to find it smiling right back across her tired eyes and pale skin. To go on late night car rides with people who actually knew her name and scream the lyrics having the melody wash over her. She didn't want to feel this way. Hiding behind a forced smile everyday. Laughing and cracking jokes only to cover up her broken and unsteady cries.

Her eyes burn as she thinks, pools of despair fogging her vision. She remembers she's standing there in that open room once more, still holding that masquerade smile, feeling exposed.

She excuses herself to those oh-so-familiar faces and heads to sleep, slowly shutting her bedroom door with shaky, long, thin fingers. Climbing into the plush bed as she leaves her windows open, blowing in the hot seasonal air.

She drifts.

And turns.

Smile relaxing.

A single tear drips down her cheek.

And she's suddenly enveloped by sleep.