I don't own anything you recognize from the movies.
BENEATH THE SURFACE
Miranda headed straight for the library at the end of the last period of the day just like she had every day since she started school. Every day at the end of the last period of school she would start feeling as if her head was going to explode. She wanted silence.
There was no doubt that she loved school. But the very existence of other people irritated her. She had been driven to the limit more than once throughout her short life, and now she was no more than 20 years of age. Every scar that the black, long-sleeved shirts she usually wore hid, were proof of a life in constant torment. A life lived in constant fear because of words. And she had considered words to be her best friends. But sometimes the words turn against you if someone who thinks he, or she, is something more than you, uses them against you. Every single cut on Miranda's arms represented those kinds of words. The words used to hurt. Hence, she reached out for the solitude that only the library could provide. It was the only place where the words didn't reach out for her.
Growing up in a California could have been every girl's dream. But dreams are easily crushed. One wrong move, one wrong word. Even having too much to eat can crush your dreams into pieces. Miranda's dreams were crushed. Ever since she was a child, she had dreamed about becoming a writer, and she still pursued her dream. But her dream had been crushed. Yet she still chose to pursue it. It was all that kept her above water. It kept her from drowning.
"Good afternoon Miranda," the librarian greeted her as she walked through the doors of the library.
"Good afternoon Ms. Thomas. How are you?" Miranda replied with a smile. Ms. Thomas answered and smiled before going back to work.
Miranda headed straight for the back of the library, ready to get lost in the world of fiction and make-believe. She left the library four hours later, just as the library was closing. Going home didn't seem like an option at the time, so she walked in the opposite direction.
Just after Miranda's eleventh birthday, her father had run off with another woman. Miranda was left with her mother and her two younger brothers. A year later, her brothers had been killed in a hit and run accident involving illegal street racing. That was the start of her depression. It was the beginning of a state of intense sadness, melancholia and despair both for her mother and herself. Her mother tried to go on, but the deaths of her youngest children took its toll on her. In a way, Miranda was left alone with no one to really talk to, no one to receive support from.
So, going home didn't seem like an option at the end of a terrible day at school. Miranda would walk around the city without any destination, and her gaze always lowered to the ground as she simply placed one foot in front of the other. Wandering around aimlessly became a new hobby of hers, but normally it resulted in her coming home to eat a late dinner before managing to persuade her mother into taking a shower after eating and then getting her to sleep. Every day was the same. Get up in the morning, make breakfast for both of them, prepare a lunch for her mother, leave for school, go to the library, go for a walk, go home, make dinner, and get her mother to take a shower before going to bed. Every day was the same.
Miranda found comfort in her books, but some times, or rather most of the time, it wasn't enough. Chocolate and ice cream soon followed. They would make her feel better for a short period of time. A bite of a chocolate would make her world explode in colours as she devoured it. But as soon as she had finished eating it, she felt as bad as always. Each piece of chocolate… each spoonful of ice cream reminded her of all the words the met during the day. The words that never ceased to reach her. Just as every scar on her arms never ceased to remind her, the chocolate and ice cream did the same. Every single day was the same. Every day was bad memories being revived.