Healing Touches

(Chapter 1)

Ezra

Sitting in my window seat was something I did often. I enjoyed watching the damp rain hit the glass in a rhythmic motion; each tap of water hitting the shield in front of me.

A shield of many layers, layers that broke a lot, and had hard times rebuilding themselves.

These layers are bad at saying no. But have a specialty for saying yes. Yes, you can break my heart. Its okay.

In a way, the layers are strong, but in another, they're weak.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Weary was the word.

I was weary; I never sleep well. Ever.

Sleeping was nice when I didn't wake up every 10 minutes from a nightmare.

Sleep was the only place I could get away from everyone and everything.

Steam rose slowly from the tea in front of me.

I chuckled at the mug; it was a gift my mom got me last year. It read "I don't do mornings"

Well that was one thing my mother knew of me.

My room was nearly silent. I could've sworn I heard the thumps of my heart, knocking on my rib cage, begging to leave, but it was no use.

I lightly chewed my bottom lip. The rain slowed down, I watched a group of people walk off a bus; they had bags over their shoulders and they laughed away at each others jokes. I had been homeschooled for about 8 months. I didn't like it but it was better then going to the prison we call school.

School is where my nightmares always start. The hallways. People would stare; point. Why? The question remains afloat in my head.

I never did anything wrong to anyone. Sometimes I think its because I'm not a barbie, and I can't do the splits.

I think about going back every now and then.

It sucked. School. I never failed my grades, I wasn't into drugs.

I'll never understand what everyone hated about me.

But then... there was this boy. Zayn.

I always tried to convince myself to talk to him. Every so often, we stole glances. During art.

Art was the only class we shared, art was where I went to clear my head.

He was gorgeous. What I really liked was that he never talked about me; he was never one of the people that stared, pointed or laughed.

And I liked that.

But I stopped loving; I stopped caring for people when someone who meant more then everything to me; left.

I'm still trying to fix my layers; my glue doesn't seem to be strong enough.

I told myself he'd come back.

But every time I went to see him, the stone seemed a little more crooked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay so, the person she loved committed suicide. In case you didn't know, this person was her last love, and part of the reason she decided to be homeschooled.

more soon ♥