Lost and Forgotten

          As the grey dawn peaks through her window, she wakes to the insistent beeping of her alarm clock. She sits up slowly, sick of the drone of day to day life where nothing new, nothing interesting ever happens. She hasn’t smiled in years. She has no reason to smile. She rubs her eyes, and, one by one, she places her bare, cold feet on the patterned rug. She stands up and wanders over to her wardrobe where she pulls out her school uniform. It’s grey and boring, just like her.
          She gets dressed almost reluctantly, brushes her hair, and then tiptoes downstairs for breakfast. She eats slowly, and the silence in the house is almost unbearable. She stays until she can stand it no longer, then swings her bag over her shoulder, picks up her books, and walks outside, closing the door quietly behind her.   
          The crisp autumn air bites at her bare legs, her skirt fluttering around her knees as she weaves through the leaves. She continues to school, placing each foot carefully in front of the other. As she nears the building, she retreats into the safety of her own mind, blocking out the sounds of laughter. Why they laugh is a mystery to her; what is there to laugh about?  Some people are born lucky, she thinks, they’re born happy.
          She is brought back to reality as someone bumps into her shoulder and her books spill onto the ground. As she kneels down to collect them, she spots some girls giggling at her as they walk past. This is nothing new- they had giggled and whispered and pointed at her for as long as she could remember. They were barely even noticeable now. That is the beauty of the walls of her mind. She can stay safe in there.
          She reaches for her textbook, trying to keep the wall firm, only to find someone already holding it. She follows the smooth dark fingers to an arm, then the body, then the neck, and finally finds the face belonging to the hand. “Sorry I knocked into you,” says the boy holding her book. He looks at her, concerned, “Are you hurt?” She shakes her head mutely. “Well, that’s good.” he says, offering her his hand. She stares at it, amazed, and tentatively moves her pale, thin fingers to touch his. He grasps her hand tightly and helps her of the ground. “Nice to meet you. I’ll talk to you later!” he smiles at her before walking away. She stands there in disbelief, staring at the spot he had just been. And then, using muscles she hasn’t used in years, she smiles.