"The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask, it's hard to see the pain behind the mask. Bearing the burden of a secret storm...sometimes she wishes she was never born."
The teacher walks by Angela's desk during the spelling review. She stops and stares at Angela's arm and looks like she wants to say something but she doesn't.
Angela is relieved yet saddened. She didn't want the teacher to ask but at the same time she did want her too. She wanted help, but was so afraid of her mother to do anything. Most of the time, she makes sure no one can know. She keeps a mask on. A mask that hides the pain of her mother.
After the recess bell rings she goes outside. She sits on an old, rusty bunch while she watches the other kids play soccer and other fun games. She wishes one would invite her to play, but no one ever did.
A couple minutes later, a boy with brown hair approached her and started talking with her. "Is this what it's like to have a friend?" she wondered as she genuinely smiled for the first time in years.
YOU ARE READING
Concrete Angel
Short Story~I wrote this story when I was like twelve and I didn't continue it, sorry. It was just a weird thing, sorry.~ This is a story based on Martina Mcbride's "Concrete Angel". I have no desire to steal the song, but I loved it so much I wanted to make a...
