Luke was shopping around when he was stopped abruptly by a familiar shape coming into his view. He squinted his eyes, past the racks of dark clothing in front of him and through the windows of the store across the street.

Leaving the store without anything in his hands, he walked closer to the small café trying to get closer. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the side of her face, boredom and a pinch of agitation on her expression as she tapped randomly on her phone.

Something about the sight seemed so peculiar to him; the way she carried herself just like a normal teenager did. With one look at her, you would never be able to guess that she'd done what she had. Her hunched posture, her lazily tied hair, and a black hoodie. She was just a normal person that anyone could strike up a conversation with.

He began to turn back when he noticed a small group of about three girls walk up to her. They said something, as to which she replied with a hesitant nod. He paused, watching the situation play out.

A cold breeze flew by and he tightened his black coat around him, realizing how much warmer it was inside. He fought off the urge to turn away back into the comforting heated clothing store he just came from, and stared at her expression as the group of girls talked to her.

He didn't care if he looked like a creeper at that point, because he was curious and there was nothing that could stop that.

The three girls all looked like the classic, skimpy teens who only cared about boys and their own physical appearance. All of their hair curled or straightened to perfection, makeup caching their faces. They all stood with their hands on their hips, unamused and annoyed expressions on their faces.

She said something, and immediately one of the girls bent down to face her as she sat, narrowing her eyes.

At this point, Luke knew he had to do something. He didn't have to wait the situation out to know what was going on. One of his feet stepped forward, his instinct telling him to stop whatever was about to happen next. But his other foot stayed planted; doubt playing in his mind. What if they're all just friends and that's how they talk to each other? What if this is all just some misunderstanding?

He gulped, standing idiotically on the sidewalk.

The right thing to do was probably to go in and help her, but he didn't know why it was so hard for him to just pick his feet up and walk. Something was stopping him, and although it was mainly doubt, he knew that it wasn't the only thing.

So instead, he swiveled slowly on his heel, and walked away.

⌰ ⌰ ⌰

Isla was fûcked, to say the least.

Five months had passed already, and sometimes she forgot that people still remembered. In the beginning, she avoided going outside to lessen the chances of seeing anyone she knew, or knew her. Frankly, she didn't have a problem with not going out, because she was so used to being stuck at home with her strict parents.

Only in some rare cases would she step foot outside, and that had only occurred three times. And on every single one of them, a random girl would approach her and say the most despicable things.

Not to say that she didn't deserve it, in a way, but she just wasn't used to being treated so poorly. No one had ever told her to die before.

But five months. She figured that after such a long time, and that her hair had grown out, her baggy clothing was different from what was on the social media she'd abandoned, that she wouldn't be noticed. Well, not as easily as she was now.

She spotted the three girls just before they had approached her, their thin bodies entering her favorite café and eyes widening as soon as they set on her. The recognition was practically immediate; almost like they could identify her as fast as they could with one of the members.

So now they stood, revolted and annoyed, right before her.

"You're fûcking disgusting." One of them said, her spit flying.

"I can't believe you haven't kîlled yourself yet, bîtch." The next one spat.

The last girl stayed silent, her eyes averted from Isla's.

Isla pursed her lips, knowing that she usually had a rehearsed response for these type of words, but her mind went blank. So she didn't reply, she just nodded her head meekly, letting their words sink into her head. Her walls slowly raised upwards, and she just wanted to shy away into a dark hole.

"Why aren't you saying anything? You're such a freak." The second girl remarked with a scoff.

The first girl snorted and bent down, hand on her hip and bringing her face to the same level as Isla's. In a low whisper, she spoke, "I hope that you never come out into the open again - no one should ever have to see your sorry, disgusting face."

Even for Isla, this was taking it too far. Out of all the times she'd been approached, these three girls were stabbing her in places that were desperately trying to heal. Kylie's talk with her a while ago suddenly emerged in her mind. She licked her lips and stood up from her seat, causing the three girls to back up slightly.

But no words came out.

Her mouth opened but it was like someone had stuck their hand down her throat. Her lungs felt tight and she just stared at the three girls, feeling like a complete fool.

The three girls were silent at first, expecting her to say or do something, but when there was nothing, they just laughed. It was loud and echoed through the whole shop, random people turning their heads at them. Isla's heart thumped rapidly and the palms of her hands perspired.

"You're pathetic." One of the girls said and shoved her lightly, causing her to stumble back into her seat.

Isla, completely stunned and vulnerable, continued to stay silent, physically unable to speak.

"She doesn't even talk, wow."

"I don't think she knows how, honestly. After all, she's stupid enough to not be able to drive properly."

"How does anyone even stand to be near her? Everything about her reeks."

Isla could feel the tears coming into her eyes, but she couldn't let them fall. Not in front of these people.

But she was weak; her rational has drifted away long ago and she no longer had the same control of her actions. So her tears spilled out, dropping onto her lap as she averted her eyes. Inside her mind, she cursed and scolded herself for letting it happen, but no matter what, they wouldn't stop.

She turned her head, begging that they wouldn't notice. Her hands clenched tightly around her bag and her legs burned to stand up and just run.

"She's fúcking crying."

Once Isla heard those words she stood up once more and pushed past them, heading straight towards the door outside. She sucked in her sobs and clenched her eyes tight in frustration. She was so weak and pitiful.

Her vans padded softly on the sidewalk and she just paced quickly in no specific direction. She wiped at her eyes, not wanting to draw any attention on her hysteria. Her eyes remained glued to the pavement and she breathed out, watching the visible vapor of her warm breath. The cold was numbing but she couldn't feel a thing.

She sniffled loudly and attempted to dig her phone out as she walked. The same words repeated on and on in her head as she frantically tried to evade the scene. I'm so weak. Weak, weak, weak.

Her fingers wrapped around her phone and she pulled it out, tapping to get to the text screen. She quickly messaged Kylie to see if it was okay if she could come over, then shoved her phone into the hoodie pocket. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to hide her pitiful face.

She turned the corner of the street into a small alley, where she noticed a few dark figures stood, smoking. Keeping her distance, she leaned against the graffiti-filled wall and just closed her eyes. She huffed out; her warm breath visible.

Isla took steady breaths in and out, trying to ease her mind. But it only seemed to have the opposite effect as she just ended up getting bleary eyes again. She begged her own mind to distract herself with some other memory, but all that happened was her own self-pity overwhelming every inch of her brain. Everything is your fault, everyone hates you, you're a failure.

When would she be let go? When would people forgive her? Did she even deserve to be forgiven?

She slid down against the filthy wall and her bottom hit the cold cement ground. Her knees folded upwards and she covered her eyes in remorse.

Time passed, but she didn't know how much.

These dark thoughts would get into her head occasionally; but it rarely happened in a public setting. Usually it was when she was lying in bed, not being able to sleep because of her wild mind. It would take her to her worst fears, yet somehow remind her why her life was worth what it was. During those times she wondered what would happen if she just disappeared. Would people care, would they notice?

Her emotions went haywire and she would begin to doubt every kind word that was said to her. They all sounded like lies constructed out of pity, anyways.

She was always brought back to light, though. May it have been her mom, who would check up on her at night to make sure she was okay, or Kylie, who would notice the absence of texts and come over.

This time, her weary haze was shattered when a boy with damaged blonde hair tapped on her shoulder. She looked up in response, wiping her nose and staring into his green eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully, his hands fidgeting relentlessly.

She sniffled, blinking a few times to conceptualize her surroundings. Alarm ran through her body, and she momentarily feared for her well-being. He looked awfully familiar - something about his face shape and eyes made her wonder if she knew him. And his voice was raspy - like it hadn't been used in a while.

"Don't worry, I'm safe," he held up his hands as if showing that he didn't intend to harm.

The first feeling Isla had after a slight recognition, was embarrassment. She was petrified that a most-likely-to-be stranger had seen her so torn apart and just plain ugly. Her nose and eyes were probably bright red and her hair was a complete mess.

His breaths were quite uneven, she noticed, when the visible air was puffed out in long-short bursts. "It's cold, you should get inside."

Why was he showing her compassion? She was merely a stranger crying in an alleyway, didn't he have other things to do?

She shook her head, not wanting to move. Her spot was quite calming - the muffled noises of the street beside her, the clack of feet on the sidewalk. It was all extremely sensual.

When she wouldn't move, he just stared at her body curled up against the filthy wall, and slid down next to her. His back lied against the wall and his legs sprawled out in front of him. He looked over at Isla with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Then tell me what's on your mind."

  ❃ ❃ ❃ 

ok this is unedited mainly bc I just wanted to get a chapter out since its been so long since I last updated. pls point out any errors don't worry I won't get butt hurt.

but I'm really sorry, I just couldn't think of anything and blah hence this crappy chapter.

i hope u guys stay with me, and if u do ily.