"I'm fine", the little girl giggled, sweeping the dirt of her knees with her stubby little hands. Blood trickled down her stained knees, oozing out of every crack in her now broken skin, but she would not cry. Out of the corner of her eyes, the girl spotted her mother, bantering with some of the other ladies, laughing--but the girl knew better. She could feel her mother's eyes silently observe her situation unfold. The girl's smile remained.
"Honey, you are not fine," cooed Mrs. Elson. "It's okay to cry. It hurts, doesn't it?" Mrs. Elson proceeded to take out a box of Hello Kitty bandages. The little girl's friends were busy staring enviously at the fun, pink, "stickers" she was about to recieve.
"Not at all," said the girl, without even blinking.
The wall stayed up.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Fine
Teen FictionIt's that all too familiar phrase. We answer with it all the time, and we rarely ever mean it. From this comes the story of Jane Smith, a realistic portrayal of the subtle yet grossly underestimated consequences of that famous lie: 'I'm fine".
