Look At Her

She has beautiful blue eyes and curly blonde hair that flows along her face. When she dances or passes them on the street, the other girls glare at her, green-eyes like daggers as they watch her move with an unreadable expression and demeanor. Sometimes she carries a confident and cheerful smile, but underneath the mask of happiness, she is withholding tears. She loves being around people but hates crowds, because even though she is not alone, she feels lonely inside. Their voices are either a distraction and an escape to dive into with gleeful and silly conversations, or they are screams that sink into her mind and clamor against her ears. The pounding music surrounding her shakes the floor and matches her rapid heartbeat. Her eyes either gleam with excitement when she can be herself, or they fade and become dull when the demons seep into her spirit again. They taunt her with the memories of her prior traumas and helpless experiences when everything fell out of her control. Her eyes widen as they dart around the room. Her breathing quickens and soon the sweat soaking her skin begins to chill. Her blood runs cold. Darkness engulfs her and she is alone in a dark room. Hands are grasped around her wrists. A hot breath with the smell of beer blows over the exposed skin on her neck. Everything's a blur. She hears a deep voice whispering to her. She can't make out his words, but she knows something is wrong. She can barely move. Her head begins to pound as if it was about to explode. She tries to shift her weight and break free, but she is pinned down. Silent tears fall from her lashes. Fear swallows her whole as she begins to drift further into unconsciousness. Her eyes open wide and she finds herself sitting next to her friends. A boy sits near, handing her another drink after another. Thinking back on the past, the pain burns her good sense. She throws the flaming liquid back and finishes it with a few gulps, laughing. In her head, she is screaming. Internally, she is smashing the bottles against the walls and the floor. Her hair's a mess and her eyes are red, face puffy and drenched with tears. The sobs begin to take over her composure. She crashes to her knees, the broken glass piercing her skin and drawing blood. She takes no notice of the physical agony. Everything feels numb and nonexistent, almost as if all her nerves had been shot. The weeping leads to sharp breaths and gasps, the anxiety has triggered a panic attack to take over. Her eyes widen as she tries to catch her breath as her head lightens. Within seconds she passes out. Her imagination is shrieking, begging for her to get help. Instead, she continues to mask her inner turmoil with friends and drinks. She smiles and tells stories to make the others laugh, trying to make them happy. Ever since she was young she lived to make other people laugh, even if it meant pain for herself. Little did they know as she aged, she was putting too much effort into others. Especially people who only took advantage of it. They never appreciated how much she was fighting. Sadly she was giving the wrong people everything she had. Every bit of strength and energy she had left, she sacrificed to make those who she thought she loved happy, but little did she know she was exhausting herself to the point that she had no strength left to care for herself, or those who she really did love. She was hurting them the most and not those who deserved it. She was becoming someone she wasn't. She feared it but tried to ignore it. She fought it but never had enough to keep the demons from dragging her back down into the darkness of her own mind and shattered heart. She had tried many forms of coping but none seemed to be enough. She came to this place to escape her past. She dreamed of a fresh start. Unfortunately, she also lied to herself to the point that she believed that everything was okay. That going out and having fun would be enough to get her through everything she was facing. She wanted to forget the bad and make the good carefree, so she drank. However much she drank, it only seemed to poison the sickness growing relentlessly within her. Feeding her anger, fear, and sorrow. It consumed her and left her defenseless. She had assumed since she was with friends she trusted, she would be safe. Yet, no matter how much they cared about her, the boy was seeking one thing as he traced his unyielding hands up her thigh. Gradually, everything was slipping away and her eyes became glazed over as if in a trance. He had touched her body, grabbing her as she slumped back, dazed. There were no questions of consent, no questions asked if the contact was wanted. She was gone and had finally escaped her own tormenting thoughts and memories. Unfortunately, this escape wasn't any better. It was a weak and dumb way out and only lasted so long, and would only end in regrets that would only add to the pile of her problems. But at this point, she had given up on herself.


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