halcyon.

pale girl.

pale girl.

🍃

pretty girls with paper hearts; you're too young to be this sad

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H I D E

H I D E

( I HAVE BURNED YOUR BRIDGES )

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PART I

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Pale.

She's blistered and blue around the edges. Her colors, muted and dulled with skin that's burned raw with a viciousness not her own. They never notice the ghost girl when she walks the halls, head down, shoulders hunched like she wants to appear small. But he noticed her, long before she noticed herself. He saw the bruises and the scars, cigarettes burns and fading marks. He counts the shallows breaths that leaves her lips; pink, pale dying to be kissed. He notices her movements, those nervous tics; how her eyes dart (her pretty little blue eyes that screamed HELP ME) from here to there, everywhere. She's trapped.

He once touched her hands, a passing brush of skin that left him startled for many days. Her books had toppled from her hands (that asshole of a jock pushed her to the ground again) and when none came to her aid he appeared right there. Others walked away, laughing, and she hides her shame and anger behind dark hair. He tried to smile at her, to console her heart, but she turns way. They reach for the same textbook and skin is met.

Soft and pale, bones protruding from the too thin hands that would break with the barest ounce of pressure. It scared him, how breakable she was.

They never touched again, she never looks his way. But he always watched, always accounted for each presence and absence. He notices the pale girl who smelled of secrets and lies, and wonders quietly did she ever want to die?