The halls stood empty, dark in the mid-morning sun. The lights were off, the clutter a battlefield. Desks, lined the walls like injured soldiers at an infirmary. The well ones stacked neatly, receiving no special attention. Stopping at them, the lone figure ran a slight hand over the seat.
The cold composite was reassuring, stoic. It wasn't broken, but if it was, it was repairable. All things were repairable, if they didn't breathe. A sigh, and the figure pushed forward.
The silence, deafening, the sounds and voices in the mind, filling in the blanks of real life. The happiness, the despair, the memories. All seemed too fresh here.
Settling down at the end of a row of blue benches, sat the lone figure. Alone, broken, in body and soul. Dreams ripped away, logic, and common sense proved they couldn't come back, not the way the figure wanted.
She, she sat alone, contemplating these halls, that'd she never walk again. The squeak of sneakers a distant memory already. The slam of a locker, the laughter, the memories. Nothing would be the same.
Outwardly she, she was composed. But inside, inside she was a mess, inconsolable in her despair. No one knew, no one. Not her parents, her therapist, her friends, no one. They, if they knew, believed she was fine. She liked it that way.
She drew in a sharp breath when the doors down the hall slammed shut. Another one was here. She had planned it to be last, she tried to be last. She couldn't face them, she was afraid.
Running, running down the hallway was a tall teenage boy. His hair cropped fairly short, but nothing like the buzz cut her brother was sporting. Sighing to herself she sat back in the chair slightly. Just Lee, it's just Lee.
Lee, she couldn't believe it, Lee was late. That meant trouble, the last thing Lee needed to be was late. Lee, always smart, responsible, punctual, was late. Lee newly elected Drum Major of the West Side Wildcat's Marching Band. Great responsibility, and he may have blown it already.
He skidded to a stop in front of her. "Kendra?" He moved closer, sitting in the seat next to her. "Kenny, why are you here?"
"Because- Because I need to be." See looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. The fingerless gloves, red striped stared back up at her.
"No, you know you don't need to be." He grabbed one of her hands. "You don't need to be. They would understand. They- it would be okay."
"No." She rasped. "They would pity me, I don't want their pity. I need to face this, myself. I- I just need to do this. To explain, to-"
"You don't need to explain anything. Nothing's your fault."
"I know that. But if I don't explain, they'll still wonder, they'll look at me funny." She gazed down to the left at the spokes of her chair. "As much as- as I need to do this. I'm not sure I can."
"It's your choice. It's your choice."
"I know, it's just that- that I'm afraid."
Lee strode into the band room confidently, despite his tardiness. Twenty-one faces looked up at him. The youth starring comically, the adults in the room, coming close to fuming. Lee tilted his head to the office, asking to speak privately.
Picking up on the message they walked to join him. "Baxter," The younger of the pair snapped. "Where've you been?"
"I was talking to Kendra, out in the hall, she-" Lee started to explain.
"Kendra's here? We've been waiting for you two for ten minutes." The gray hair one accused.
"Look, I'm sorry, but don't blame this on Kendra. She's had a rough summer."
Skeptically the first one raised an eyebrow.
"Look, this is her story to tell, but simply put she's –"
"It's okay Lee." A strong voice interrupted. "I can explain myself."
Three sets of eyes fell to the young woman sitting a foot behind Lee, her hands poised on the wheels of her chair.
To Be Continued ?