Literary Magazine

Hollow Hearts

Her eyes flickered from corner to corner, taking in the empty space that seemed to surround her. No one ever seemed to notice the girl in the back of her room with scars up her arms and books hugged to her chest. They didn’t notice her unless they wanted to taunt her. They didn’t make her feel welcome unless they wanted to get in her pants to see just how far up her thighs the scars went. They wouldn’t talk to a freak like her. Not unless they wanted something she had that they didn’t. A girl would ask for a pencil or her life, it just depended upon the day. A boy would ask for her eraser or her virginity, and that just depended on who he was. Everyone would ask for her sanity, snapping bits and pieces off until there was nothing more than a whisper of what once was. The cry of what once was the best thing about her. Her brains were something she was exceedingly proud of, if she wasn’t wanting to kill herself at the moment. She was slinking away from the world of the living, quicker and quicker was her descent, but no one would acknowledge it. She had brains and beauty, but who were any of her classmates to notice? They kept on pushing her further and further to the edge of madness, where she clung on for dear life. Then, suddenly, she was falling. Her heart began to spiral into madness, her brain fell long before the rest of her body knew what was happening. At home her mother would look sullen, her face sunken in as if she had been through hardship, and she had. Her daughter was fading away, disappearing before her wary eyes.