Hidden Away [ON HOLD]

'Chapter 1: Ghost'

17 years after the incident.

Avia stared at the mirror, her eyes holding no light, so little emotion that if she was to be honest to herself, she looked like a ghost. Her black hair fell down over her face like a curtain, the only gap was so that she could still see. A zigzagging scar ran over her right eye, curving to the corner of her lip and ending at the top of her forehead.

She wore a stormy grey T-shirt, covered by a black hoodie and a pair of ripped dark jeans. Rubber bands covered her right arm, all the way up until it nearly reached her shoulder. To her, the reason was obvious, to others, she was a mystery not worth trying to solve.

On her left arm, cuts and scars were concealed with ivory bandage. The most recent being from 3 am that morning, the oldest being from when she was five.

After a good while of staring at herself, she turned and opened the creaking door. She'd long ago fled from her father, having had enough of his constant abuse. She descended the rotting staircase, exiting out the back door after grabbing her school bag. She lived in an old run-down warehouse, long ago abandoned by whoever owned it. She swiftly walked down the path, not wanting to pay any attention to anyone around her.

The walk was quick, with little distractions from the swirling storm of depression that dominated her mind. She briskly walked past everyone in front of the school, entering the second Hell Hole in her life. She walked to the far row of lockers, putting in her passcode and pushing her unnecessary equipment inside.

She slammed the door shut, avoiding the sneers and ignorant looks cast her way. She turned the corner and narrowly avoided knocking into someone. She mumbled an apology and escaped into her first class. English, crap.

||~-_-~|| Mason's POV ||~-_-~||

I glanced at my watch and saw my first class was soon to start, but I shrugged it off and continued talking to Jacob. Jacob was a close friend of mine, and I knew, unlike my others, he was my friend because of my personality and not my popularity. 

"Sorry man, I gotta go. Have fun," He cast me a solute and strolled off to who know's where.

I was about to head to class, when a petite figure turned the corner and nearly knocked into me. I was about to curse at her and push her away from me, when I noticed who it was. Ghost Girl. I knew that wasn't her name, but nobody had ever bothered to learn her real name, so that's what we all called her.

"Sorry." She mumbled, and I couldn't help but realize that she hardly ever even spoke.

I was about to say something, but when I blinked, she vanished. I dimly heard the door shut, and shook my foggy head.

I opened the same door and walked inside. The teacher was at his desk, reading something that I couldn't be bothered to identify. I swiftly scanned the room and saw her sitting in the far corner, where the light was conveniently broken.

There was a gap of three desks around her, but the students already in the class were throwing sneers at every opportunity, as well as pegging excess stationary and ripped up paper.

She sat there silently, as if oblivious to the world around her. Sometimes I wondered if she really was a ghost.

I hesitantly walked to a desk that was one seat across from her own, she barely glanced in my direction. I put my books on my desk, straightened up my pencil and then looked over at her. Still, she remained unmoving.

Mr. Hayes, our teacher, cleared his throat for attention before starting the lesson. Whenever his back was turned, the students turned to torment her further. I suddenly wondered why I'd never even noticed her existence before this morning.