A/N: WARNING: If you have heard the song Concrete Angel by Martina Mcbride, then you know what the song is about. There is a scene of semi-graphic abuse, and if that upsets you please do not read. And If the kind of situations in the story are going on in yours or someone else's life, please report them and let someone know. It might just save your life.

TW: child abuse, violence

She walks to school with the lunch she packed.

Nobody knows what she's holding back.

Wearing the same dress she did yesterday,

She hides the bruises with the linen and lace.

It was a day like any other. You walked along the street, thinking about your day at school. It was usually the same stuff over and over. Your best friend, a blond Canadian transfer named Matthew, made it worth sitting through. He was tthe only one who talked to you, due to your shyness and trust issues. Speaking of the cute thirteen year old, he was shouting for you, asking you to wait up. You paused, looking back. He was out of breath by the time he got to you.

"M-maple! Didn't you hear me yelling for you, _?" He asked softly as he regained the air he had lost. You shrugged apologetically, patting his shoulder. You would have smiled at him, but to be honest, you had never been one to do much of that.

"Sorry, Mattie. Guess I was caught up in my own thoughts." You said with a sigh. He laughed a bit as you two began to walk again.

"What were you thinking about?" He asked.

"A place where I can't be hurt by anyone." That was what you wanted to say. You instead responded with, "our math test today." The boy pushed up his glasses, nodding in understanding. He obviously was studying hard for it. He was one of the smartest kids in middle school. You two didn't say much else for most of the way.

That was, until you caught him staring. "What?"

"O-oh.. It's just... wasn't that the dress you wore yesterday?" You stopped, looking down. It was a little old fashioned according to most people, your yellow dress. It had a high collar and long sleeves. It was the only shirt you had that covered what the makeup couldn't. With a sigh, .

"Forgot to do laundry. Plus, its cute." You lied bluntly, and Matthew just shrugged it off. He had been suspicious of your careful behavior, but he was almost positive it was your trust issues. He was the only one you trusted. But even he wasn't allowed to know. Who knows what he would think? And what would she do if anyone found out...?

You instantly brush it off, dismissing it completely. You wouldn't let it happen, you assured yourself. You were worse off enough as it was. The bell rang after you two walked through the doors, and you headed off without so much as a goodbye to the Canadian you cared about so much.

The teacher wonders, but she doesn't ask.

Its hard to see the pain behind the mask.

Bearing the burden of a secret storm,

Sometimes she wishes she was never born.

You picket at your scars a bit as you read in your book. It was interesting, and it was you wished you could have. A situation that was better than yours by a million. The girl was happy, and she got a happy ending. That was all anyone ever wanted. Most people even believed in them.

You stopped believing a long time ago. You saw the teacher walk closer as you stopped picking and pulled down your sleeves. You looked up at her, and noticed she slowed down at your desk. She always looked like she would ask. You always prayed she wouldn't. After a bit if the internal battle, she walks right past you. You give a sigh and go back to reading. That's when you feel your cell phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out, wondering who could possibly be texting you during class. It was a bit of a shock to see it was Matthew, or "Maple", as it said in your contacts.

Maple: hey. are you busy?

You: No. Just doing individual reading.

Maple: i just ask you something.

Maple: want to ask you something***

You: Okay, shoot.

Maple: no, at lunch. gotta go bye!

You stared at your screen a bit, shaking your head. What a weird boy, you thought. But hey, he was your weird boy. You start up with your reading again, and everything went on as normal. Until lunch.

You sat down next to the lavender-eyed boy, raising an eyebrow. "You had a question?" You ask before digging in. He clears his throat a bit and begins.

"_? You've been acting a bit strange lately... I guess a little more jumpy... And kinda paranoid... _... How are things at home?" You almost dropped your fork. You couldn't break the mask. You had been doing so well. You couldn't screw it up now.

"Of course. Why would you think something was wrong?" You rolled your eyes, a bit defensively. He starts to pipe up again, but he is quickly cut off.

"You know, the cafeteria food is really good today. I wonder what happened." You go about your business, a pang of guilt coming up. You hated to lie to him like this... but you couldn't let him get sucked in. You couldn't risk anyone finding out. Especially she knowing you told someone.

Little did you know, your bruises were showing. And Matthew was staring straight at them.

The rest of the day went too slowly. With Mattie becoming curious and your paranoia skyrocketing, one could say the day was agonizingly slow. You could feel him stare holes through you all math period. It took everything you had to ignore it. Your mask was built to be strong, and strong it would be. Taking in a deep breath, you went back to your work like nothing was going on. You turned the test in to the teacher as the bell rang. You didn't try very hard on it. You never did. Grabbing your backpack, you started out the door and to your locker.

"_-_!" You heard that oh-so familiar voice call. "Wait up!" You didn't. You would stop at your locker. If he wanted to talk, it would have to be on the way. You were soon stopped by a hand on your shoulder, wincing a bit from the contact. Rule 1 you gave him: No physical contact unless it was life or death. You turned to glare at him for breaking the biggest rule, but you couldn't keep a glare going at those eyes. They were sad. And worried. And it was obvious he just wanted to help. "Please tell me what's going on? Are you doing it to yourself? Is someone else doing it to you?"

"I have no clue what you mean..." you lied, pulling away. Gently, he grabbed your wrist, holding the hand towards himself. He rolled up your sleeve with the other hand. It showed scars and bruises, both new and old. He looked like he was going to cry, much like yourself. His eyes darted up to yours from the scars. He was silently pleading.

"Please, _… Please get help. Please, tell someone! Talk to me! Come on!" The usually silent Matthew was at the point of shouting. You flinched back a bit, not liking him yelling. Especially not at you. There was a silence. A long, stone-cold silence. Then, you spoke.

"I can't... you don't understand." You pulled away, running off. You would already be in trouble for being late, not to mention being sopping wet. It was a downpour out there.

Through the wind, and the rain, she stands hard as a storm.

In a world that she can't rise above.

But her dreams give her wings,and she flies to a place where she's loved.

A Concrete Angel

Matthew hadn't gone home. He told his parents he had a meeting with some club he had decided to join. That was a lie. He was just worried. Worried about you, mostly. He had read about cases like yours. It never ended well. You were his best friend, his only friend, really! He couldn't just sit back and let bad things happen to you! He tried to think. What could he do? Then, an idea popped into his head. He started to run. His destination: your house.

Somebody cries in the middle of the night.

The neighbors hear, but they turn out the light.

A little girl caught in the hands if fate.

When morning comes, it'll be too late.

He had never been to your house before, but he had driven by it a few times with his older brother. He put the hood of his sweater up, walking up to the house. The lights were mostly off, but he could hear something. It was... crying? Yes, crying. Crying, and begging... and soft screaming. With panicked in his mind, he quickly looked around. It was a room on the second floor, and it was right across from a neighbor's window. The light was on in the neighbor's home one second, the next it was off. They had left the girl to scream and cry. At least, that's what Matthew assumed. He started to panicked again, finding a latter. As quietly as possible, he leans it against the window, climbing up. He wasn't able to make it all the way up, but he was just high enough to get a look at what was happening. There you were, and there was your mother. You were curled in the corner, bleeding and crying, screaming for her to stop. The screams were now pitiful whimpers, due to how badly of a condition you were in. The woman, Matthew refused to acknowledge her as a mother, nevertheless yours, was drunk most likely. She walked over, picking you up, and landing one last blow. You were out, bleeding and unconscious on the floor. Taking in a gasp, Matthew almost fell off the ladder. He climbed down before he could get caught, half surprised at himself that he wasn't frozen in place. The image would never leave his head. He fumbled with his phone, trying to dial the sacred numbers with shaky fingers.

Everything else went too fast. He watched the ambulance arrive, he watched them carry your body to the truck and the woman arrested. He didn't remember his feet moving as fast as they could to get to you, or him passing out at the sight of the blood all over you. He didn't even remember waking up in the next hospital bed as the tried to revive you. He did, however, remember screaming your name as the beeps got slower, and slower... And slower... Until there were no more beeps. Just a flat noise that made his heart break. He slowly stood from the bed, making his way over to you on shaky legs. You were gone. You were the most important thing he had, and you were gone. He felt something wet roll down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe it away. He couldn't. This was horribly, horribly wrong.

A statute stands in a shaded place.

An angel girl with an upturned face.

A name is written on a polished rock-

A broken heart that the world forgot.

It seemed as if the whole school had shown up for your funeral. None of them knew you, but they were all devastated. Most of them think if only they tried. Matthew was the worst of all in this mindset. I did try, he thought. I just was too late... he can't cry at the sight of your body, now clean and made-up. He had done all his crying the past few days. His heart was too broken for anymore tears. He had received pats on the back, 'I'm sorry for your loss', and other things that people usually heard. It went on like this for hours. He was the last one at your grave after you were put deep down in the ground. He looked at the statue above your grave. It was an angel. To him, it looked almost exactly like you. Clenching his teeth, he knelt down, tracing his fingers over the letters.

(Name/Last name)

Through the wind, and the rain, she stands hard as a storm.

In a world that she can't rise above.

But her dreams give her wings,and she flies to a place where she's loved.

A Concrete Angel

He took in a breath and stood, sighing it out. Then, he heard it. Laughter. Your laughter. He turned quickly, seeing a beautiful woman, around thirteen or fourteen, laughing with two children. She gave one last glance at Matthew before taking the childrens' hands, walking off.

Anyone would have told him he imagined it. But he knew there was no denying it. You were, through it all, a concrete angel.