The Photographs Of A Wallflower | BxB

Chapter 2: A Hellish Beginning & Maya

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As I stepped out of my house, the chill of the November morning air wrapped around me like an unwelcome shroud. The sky was a muted gray, heavy with clouds threatening rain—a fitting backdrop for my mood. With my camera slung over my shoulder, I began the familiar trek to school, each step falling in rhythm with the whispers that danced on the edge of my mind. As I let my eyes rove around at the scenery, I faintly registered the distinct thumps of my steps as they hit the pavement and gravel. I became aware of muted voices just beyond my consciousness, whispering thoughts I wished I could silence: 'They see you... they know you...'

I noticed a long crack in the sidewalk, and for a moment, I wondered if that crack could be me, broken and aging, with no one to repair its fissures. As my eyes refocused on what was in front of me, I saw a little girl with her parents, gleefully swinging in the air as her parents swung her back and forth. The sight brought a soft and sad smile to my face as I remembered a time when that once was me—happy and full of life. Times are different nowadays, I thought, as I took a picture to immortalize the beauty of the moment, focusing the lens on the little girl's happy smile as her parents looked at her, eyes full of love.

As I continued my burdensome trek to the hellish thing they call a school, the whispers grew louder, blending with my thoughts until I couldn't differentiate between them. 'Don't let them see you... don't let them in...' Each word seemed to burrow deeper into my mind, making the path feel longer and the shadows seem darker. I tried to shake the voices in my head as I arrived at the school. I couldn't help but notice its dull colors: gray, beige—it went on, and I felt bile rising in my throat as I stepped on its huge beige steps to the door. I could only imagine the hell I might go through today.

I stepped into the school and immediately was bombarded by loud noises, with rowdy crowds bunched up together as they walked down the halls to their deep red lockers. I heard the turn of a lock as the combination was inputted, and I almost bolted right there, but I remembered to tune out the noise, making it subdued in a way; dimmed. As I directed myself to my English class, I could only imagine what the teacher would say when he saw me. Mr. White, that treacherous little snake, absolutely loathed me for some reason I didn't know. I thought he must have known my dad way back when he was in high school himself.

As I pushed the rusty door to the classroom, I heard it creak ever so slightly, alerting the entire class that someone was entering. I could feel a thousand eyes burning holes in my head. As I looked over at Mr. White, I saw his self-satisfied smirk as his ugly face contorted to glance at me. "Take a seat," Mr. White said in a saccharine voice. I looked over the class and spotted a free desk at the back of the classroom, beside a perky-looking blonde girl. I plopped myself down dramatically as I tried to make myself disappear, shrinking in my chair.

The class started, and I could feel the noise and whispers starting to come back as I buried my head in my hands and closed my eyes as if it would somehow lessen them. "You're all alone. No one would even care if you disappeared. It's safer to stay hidden..." they said, as I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. As the minutes dragged on, the lecture droned like a monotonous hum, the clock in the class clicking in my head as I sank deeper into my chair, feeling as though I could become one with the fabric. Mr. White's voice fluctuated between sharp and smooth, his words floating around me but never really making contact.

The whispers in my head, though still present, began to dim like distant echoes, retreating into the shadows behind my thoughts. "Charlie?" Mr. White called, a sharp edge to his tone breaking through the fog. I could sense the class shift, their eyes pivoting in my direction, a wave of attention crashing over me. "Charlie?" he repeated, more insistent this time, irritation curling around his words. The muted voices in my mind waned, leaving behind only the echo of my name—a sound that felt both familiar and foreign.