Original Fiction: It Wasn't Her Fault
She stood, just off to the side, noticeable, but not noticeable. You could see her if you looked, but if you didn’t; she was just another part of the scenery. No one ever really saw her; they always looked past, or disregarded her if they saw. She’s always there, waiting for someone to say something, someone to care. It wasn’t her fault you know. The things those boys did. It wasn’t ever her fault. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and for some reason she has to pay the price.
Why should a teenage girl, sixteen years of age, be forced to endure such a punishment? She never did anything, to anyone, ever. And now she’s here, for everyone to see. If only they would see her, they’d notice the pain etched on her face, the disgrace she shows in her posture. She may not have been a straight A student, she may not have been the perfect daughter, sister, friend. But no one ever deserved a fate such as hers.
You can see her there, everyday. Under the tree with a yellow ribbon tied around its base, she sits there cross legged. Pain etched on her face, faint traces of disgrace. This monument to her pain her deception and her last cry for help, her last plea to be cured. She’ll never come back, she made a mistake. She told her mom she didn’t want anyone to know, but her mom took those boys to court. She told the judge what happened, with tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to be known as a naughty person.
The boys went away, and she was alone. Just like before, only now everyone knew. She couldn’t take the stares, the questions of the giggling girls. She wanted to go back to the day it happened, she wanted to go back, crawl into her bed, and pretend it never happened. She couldn’t, so she cut. She slit, she slashed, she took pill after pill, and she refused to eat. She was drifting further and further from the few friends she had, and they didn’t know how to reach her. They didn’t know how to help her survive.
So she cut, she slit, she slashed, she overdosed, she refused to eat, she took risks, she did everything she could, to no avail. It was raining that night, when she stole her mother’s keys. She didn’t know how to drive just yet, but she figured that didn’t matter for what she really, really wanted then. She took the car, she drove too fast, and then she crashed. Her mom rushed to the hospital as soon as she heard, she met up with her father, who was truly disturbed. He shouted, and screamed, “How could you do this to me, to our little girl?” But the mother said nothing, she had no clue. Her brother arrived, and sat by her side, waiting for her to wake.
The family was devastated, they didn’t know what to say. The brother found a note in his coat, and read it aloud, tears fell faster and harder than the thundering storm. The girl awoke, her family beside her. Her brother asked why, and she couldn’t reply. She felt herself slipping away, and she began to cry. She thanked her parents, and told them she loved them. She apologized to her brother, for lying to him and secretly meeting his two best friends. She closed her eyes, and that was the end.
So there she sits, as a memorial to a girl who got away. A girl who let her life slip out from under her, for a careless mistake she shouldn’t of made. She isn’t the one to blame, she was naïve. She didn’t know the boys intents. So there she is, for all to see, as a public reminder just for you and me. Stay close to your loved ones, ask them what’s wrong. Check their wrists, and force them to eat. Keep the pills away, and hide the car keys.
Dedicated to the girl, who let life slip away.
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