It was a crisp autumn day, leaves swirling in the wind around her. She sat on a wooden bench just out of view of the world, but close enough that if someone were to crane their neck unnecessarily, they would see her. A few strands of her unruly red hair escaped from underneath her hood and danced around her shoulders. Deep brown eyes scanned the view before her. Children swinging in the park, a happy family having a picnic on the vast ocean of green grass, a man and his faithful companion making their second trip around the park. But the girl did not just look, she saw.
She saw an outcast surrounded by other children by the swings, falling to the floor as the leader of the group struck them hard in the abdomen. She saw through the façade of the seemingly happy family, the father's grip on his daughter's leg unusually tight, her face a mask of fear as he whispers into her ear. The fleeting glance of protection the mother gives her daughter before turning away, protection replaced with relief, she would not be his target tonight. The eldest child, the teenage son, looking on with disgust, unexpressed anger flashing in his eyes. The dog walker stops at the corner, ties the dog to a fence post and then strides towards a woman watching him from another bench. The woman stands up as he reaches her and they share a fleeting kiss. The man has a wife, the girl knew that. She looks on as they slowly disappear into the trees, coming back a few minutes later with their clothes slightly creased and hair out of place.
It was a wonder no one else saw the things that the girl did, she thought them plainly obvious. No one had yet to be as observant as she. She couldn't help but wonder what someone would see if they glanced at her. Would they see a care free teenager with her headphones in, lost in her music? Or maybe they would see a troublemaker with their hood up, assuming that she was listening to a violent and aggressive song and planning her next antisocial act. She found herself hoping that someone would see through her well constructed mask and into her soul. That someone would see what she was hiding, see her deepest and darkest secrets that she fought so hard to keep locked away.
No one ever did. She doubted that they even acknowledged her existence, yet she sat in the same spot every day. She should be in school, she knew that, but she always ended up here. She wasn't stupid, she grasped the concept of things quickly. Her problem was that she had a mind of her own. She thought for herself and made her own decisions, a quality rarely found in a person. Though this quality separated her from most people, they had been taught not to consort with someone that didn't follow the crowd. They were like sheep, following one another through life. It is dangerous to put out an opinion different from everybody else's in this world, to stand alone. She had learned that the hard way. She had lost friends because of it, no matter how close they once were. This girl had learned that you cannot expect anything from anyone, that the only person you can depend on is yourself. Expectations only lead to let downs.
She didn't have friends anymore, only acquaintances. People that thought they had her figured out, not knowing how wrong they really were. She had a family, of course, if that's what you would call them. Blood means that they are related to her, not that they are her family. Her mother is a typical housewife, baking and shopping. Her father a surgeon, earning a vast amount of money. In pictures they look perfect, happy. But cameras lie, nothing can be deciphered about a person from a photograph. You could not tell from any photograph that her mother had instigated countless affairs with a huge number of men, her father yet to find out about any of them. You could not tell that her father often came home from work blind drunk, lipstick stains on his shirt, beating anyone within sight. Usually her. He says that she is a disgrace and a failure, that he is ashamed of her.
The only thing that keeps her going is the fact that she only has one more year until she turns sixteen, one more year until she can finally get out of the hell hole that she calls a home. She's not quite sure what she will do when she leaves, but anywhere is better than there. This dream is the only thing that keeps a flicker of hope burning within the embers of her being, a hope for a better future.
The sun is rapidly falling from the sky when she wakes from her daydreaming, a sign that she should leave. She gathers up her things and pulls down her hood, her vibrant locks tumbling down to the small of her back and curtaining half of her face, hiding her from the world. The park is empty now, no one in sight. The child from the swings probably limped home, passing his injury off as a fall, too ashamed to admit to anyone what really happened. The family probably sitting around a dining table, the young girls knee shaking uncontrollably beneath the table as the father brushes his leg against her own, reminding her of what is to come when night falls. The dog walker will be snuggled up on the couch at home and watching the television with an arm wrapped around his wife, secretly thinking of someone else. The girl leaves the park alone, always alone, praying that tonight her father won't come home.
Little does she know that a brown haired boy has been watching her all day from a nearby tree, studying her with his sea blue eyes. He opens a sketchpad and is met with drawings of the nameless girl, her eyes often lost and glazed over. She is alone, as is he. He jumps down from the tree, landing softly on the grass. Tomorrow, he promises himself, he will approach her. Tomorrow he will brighten up her day.