Sitting with my back against the wall of my house, sun in my face and a book in my hands, I left my mind wander.

I bet somewhere out there there's a girl who isn't allowed to go outside. Who has parents that keep her locked up, tidied away from the world so she can't leave her mark. She probably looks out her window every morning, wondering what grass feels like under her toes, or sun on her face, or freedom through her. She barely smiles anymore, and her skin's so pale that she thinks that one of these days someone will glance in her direction, and look right through her. She reminisces about that time she went to the beach, or that other time she went to the park. But they were so long ago that she doesn't even know if they're real anymore. When people see the scars on her wrist, everyone understands.

I bet there's a boy out there whose parents have passed away. He sits in the dark in his room, wondering if he closes his eyes for long enough the world will simply pass him by. Forget there's a sad boy in a dark place with no escape. He doesn't remember what happiness feels like, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to feel it without his parents with him. He thinks that if he does anything but mourn, he'll be destroying their memory. Not missing them enough. When he grabs a razor one particularly dark night, no one judges him.

I bet there's a girl out there, and she's being married to a man she doesn't know. He's 30 years older than her, and has had 2 wives before her. No one knows what happened to the other two. But when she closes her eyes all she can see is what he must've done to them - what he'll do to her. The wedding's tonight. She covers her ears to try to block out the screams that resonate within her head. She sees a razor on the bathroom sink, and it seems to hum with the possibility of driving out the pain and the fear. No one judges her.

I bet there's a small boy out there, who's only known pushes and shoves his whole life. Even when he's alone he can hear his peers' daunting remarks. He wants them all to go away. He wants to feel like he's alive for once, instead of the constant monotone pain he's been feeling for the past year. But nothing's enough to drive the hurt away, it's so deep rooted in his soul that he cries tears of blood, and his heart sinks further into his chest the more he lives. So he pulls blades across his broken skin, hoping it'll fix the brokenness inside himself – and people comprehend that it's because his life's not good, that there is no good.

I bet there's a girl out there, and all she wants to do is go study. She's got a brilliant mind, and she knows it. Her father can barely add up the bills of the month, but she… Well, she's special. She could multiply from the young age of 4, and at 18, she can do all sorts of maths, all which make her soul feel like it's alight. Her sisters watch her slave over a new enthralling problem. They comment how boring it is, but she doesn't think so. When she scribbles down numbers she feels a tingle in her fingers and a happiness in her heart that she can't help but smile. But her dad's taking that away from her now. She needs to work at the farm. Soon the only maths she'll be allowed to do is adding up the bills. And one of those days, when the only thing that makes the world leave her be is ripped away from her, she decides she needs a new remedy. Her friends want to help her, but they know why she does it.

And then there's me. There's a girl out there, who has a perfect life. She isn't locked up in her room, she knows what grass feels like and how blue the sky can get and that the beach isn't just a figment of her imagination. She has both her parents alive and well, happiness isn't something she fears. She isn't bullied, and her life isn't just one endless stream of beatings. She's not the best at studying, but she'll get the chance to go to college and face all those maths problems that make the world fade away. She knows that if people ever discover her scars, they'll judge her.

What if nothing's truly wrong? What happens if you're the girl at the end, who's just sad? What if "just sad" isn't enough?

Closing my eyes to keep the tears out, I tugged down my sleeves. There was no one around, and my scars were already covered, but I couldn't help but feel like the minute I slipped up there'll be a billion eyes at the ready to judge me. I could already hear their whispered words.

"What does she have to be sad about?"

"God, I'd do anything to have her life, what is she even doing?"

"She's just trying to get attention."

I shook my head at myself quickly, knowing this train of thought would get me nowhere. I'd never get caught - I was incredibly careful when it came to my scars.

I was just scared. Just tired of this life. Just sick of having to deal with all those days that were the same. I was alive, and maybe that was enough to feel the sadness that rested heavy in my chest.

But what if "just sad" isn't enough?

Hi :)

So, this is the story I've been promising you guys for 3 months now! Haha, a bit late :/ But, well, better late than never, I suppose? Also this story's going to include quite a bit of mental illness issues, if you hadn't guessed already, so I feel the need to put a warning for that on here.

Aubrey's Petal's daughter, from my old story Fixing Petal. But you don't really need to read the other story to know what's going on in this one, as it'll all be explained through Aubrey's feelings.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the prologue, and tell me what you think :)

Bye bye xx