And even the birds have stopped singing...
For when all the world's malice is endured by these handfuls of teenagers, the hush of sorrow settles in.
Carly Wren Davies is her parents' boxing bag and the very reason they need one in the first place...
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FOR AN INDIVIDUAL who has a tremendous amount of trust in humanity; who relishes in the company of very many people; who does not mind joining a floor that is clogged with uncertainty, this mundane act might be managed with comfort.
For an individual like Carly, it is unfeasible as well as loaded with stifling fear. As though all eyes are reaching for her soul, trying to drain her of each mystery her innermost being holds. As though she is standing at the vent of an active volcano, fully understanding that within some few seconds she will be pushed into the vicious lava.
It would be terrifying if she must go through this singly, but she does not. Her friends would never abandon her. The people who know about the ghouls her tragic past house (at least partially) stand beside her during all such trying occasions.
Oh, how she wishes she could articulate her gratitude, but the singular level that comes even close can only be defined as the plethora of infinity. As if you are teleported into another dimension, and afterward attempt to put your experience into words. The magnitude of marvel overloads your body to the point in which it stuffs your throat. So rather than speaking, a bright smile imprints itself on your cheeks. And, luckily, that suffices.
For a great many years, Carly was anxious about mealtimes. For various reasons. But the last couple of months have been significantly more challenging. The Hufflepuff at the Slytherin table draws everyone's attention.
The prey's greatest mistake is to sneak a peek into the eyes of those beasts orbiting them. Because when they notice you, they instantly tear open their mouths and swallow you whole. As yet another victim of their heinous existence, you continue to live in the twilight of their pride. You are standing across from them, and there is no sign of a shelter anyplace. Your heart is pounding — almost bursting out of your chest. And, despite the fact that dread fastly deprives you of all perception, you have already resigned yourself to this stroke of fate. Because why expend energy fleeing when the entire world is unsafe? There are no secure places in which you can consider taking calming breaths. You will get wholly smothered. Day by day. No matter your surroundings.
But not any longer. The whispered conversations have ceased, and Carly's knot in her throat has shrunk. Carly has more or less conquered her panic, but a remnant remains tattooed into her skin and will never leave her.
She is wholly apathetic about the individuals around her. For, she utilizes a technique she has learned – to construct a bubble around herself that no sounds, aromas, or silhouettes from her fellow schoolmates can gain entry to. It is, nevertheless, not impossible to tear through those unassailable barriers. "Carly!" but it requires time and persistence. "Carls!" until the thick layer cracks. "Carly, hey!"
"Yes?" Her head jerks to the side. In shock, she nearly drops her spoon. Her fingers are trembling as she positions the cutlery on her plate. "Did I startle you?" Pansy asks, a concerned expression on her face as she reaches for Carly's hand. "Tiny bit. It is all right," Carly says as she chooses to accept Pansy's touch. She reaches for her spoon once more to proceed with munching her cereal.
