The Heartbroken Girl in The Corner

Chapter One

The shrill sound of the school fire bell rings off as students shuffled from their desks quietly and walked out of the classroom to the nearest exit. Usually the bell would stop ringing when all the students were out. Usually the fire trucks wouldn't show up. Usually you wouldn't see the flames lick and bite the south end of your high school.

"Apologies! Project got out of hand!" The science teacher usually wouldn't say.

"School is cancelled for the rest of the day!" Usually the principal wouldn't call that.

Usually you wouldn't see your boyfriend locking lips with some red head against a tree behind you.

Usually you wouldn't hear the words he said next;

"I never loved you. Who loves a nerd?"

Usually my heart wouldn't hurt.

Usually.
Usually.
Usually.

They always says to expect the unexpected but they don't tell you why do they?

Maybe because it could crush your entire existence into a single atom that would then disappear into deep space nine. Or at least that's what it feels like.

The feeling of hearing your heart split into those pieces. Visualizing your literal heart freezing over like water on a cold day and then being kicked in and shattering into the tiniest pieces of untameable glass. Flooding you. Everything around you.

The only way they can even begin to escape is through the endless amount of tears. Spilling them everywhere where they are never to be found. The rest of it spreads throughout your body, freezing your veins into numbness. Desperately making you want to just stop. Stop feeling, stop trying, just stop.

You desperately wish that the world would just end at that direct moment because if it ends, so do you. So does your pain.

You feel like collapsing on the sidewalk as the rest of your school disperses into the streets. Leaving. Living their lives. Instead you are a little heap of unimaginable pain in the middle of the street because of someone's actions. You try to pull yourself together but you can't function without a heart and yours just shattered, and now seeps into every crack in the sidewalk like water.

You have no shoulder to cry on because everyone would tell you "it's okay." "He didn't deserve you."

Why can't you just let me cry? Why do you have to console me? What makes you think that telling me life gets better will fill the void? It's called a void for a reason. It's an endless oblivion that can never be refilled again. It's like digging a hole in the dirt. You will either have too much dirt or not enough to fill it again. It will never be the same. Neither will you.

Someone's actions have just changed your entire existence now.

Yet for some reason. You miss him. They just broke your heart and all you desperately want is to believe it was all a dream and you'll wake up. But it's no dream. It's the reality that you had an emotional connection with someone who just crushed your heart under their shoe like it was a grain of sand. Carelessly.
Easily.
Shamelessly.
Unapologetically.

Taking every bit of your existence you can find, you walk home. You don't know how you got there but your bed seems to be the only thing to cry on that won't judge you. It will hold you and all your pieces together. Your locked door rattles as your family calls from behind it, desperately wanting to know what's wrong. They'd care right? You can talk to them? No. They'll judge you too. "I never trusted that boy!" Your mother will admit.
"I'm going to beat his ass!" Your brother will try.
"He's just a boy! Get over it!" Your father will scold.

...

It's not that easy.

It's not like taking an eraser to a mistake on a piece of paper. It's like trying to get rid of permanent marker on your paper.
First you smudge it.
Then you try white out but it still shows through.
Then you glue more paper over it but you can still see it when you turn the page over. More white out. More paper and glue.
You can still see it.
Eventually you get frustrated and just crumple the paper throwing it into the garbage. Because now it's ruined forever and no one wants it. It's an unwanted, crumpled piece of paper because everyone sees the permanent mark and they hate it. They don't see the white space around it that can be transformed into something. That blank space that still holds potential. They only see the mistake and then just get rid of it all and restart on a new piece of paper. This time learning their mistake and using a pencil, not permanent marker that would ruin their work forever if they were to make one mistake.

But one mistake can change everything.

Yet no one thinks about the consequence of crumpling that marked up paper and throwing it away...

Because now it's useless.