Her Name Is Not Hope

I know it's very short, but I wanted to write something for wc43. :3
Words: 282
Hope you enjoy! ^0^

Chapter 1

A whirlwind. A tornado. A hurricane; a typhoon; an earthquake; a tsunami.

A blur.

All metaphors for a life not worth living. It seems that hers is all of these and more these days.

I've watched her. Doing nothing to help, but watching. Feeling nothing. Only telling her story the way she would.

Her name is not hope, and she is feeling very small.

The crowd of yelling teenagers does not look twice at her as she stumbles up to the school doors. Everyone is grouped; she is not. People turn to stare and whisper at the new kid. That's her. Her name is not hope.

She fumbles with the combination lock on her locker, it is bright pink, while the surrounding lockers are all secured with standard black and silver.

Her name is not hope, and she is feeling very noticed.

She yanks open the locker, and all her books spill out. Her face red, she stuffs a few books into her schoolbag and kicks the rest back in the locker. A girl saunters up to her own locker, two away from the new girl's, and opens it effortlessly, letting the door fall open lightly, so the new girl could see the organised shelves and decorations covering the locker.

Her name is not hope, and she is feeling discouraged.

As she hurries off to her first class, she trips and falls, her papers scattering everywhere. Her shoelace is untied.

Laughter rings through the hallway, nobody bothering to help her up. She scrambles to pick up her books and stuffs them in her bag, hastily tying her shoe and sprinting off.

Her name is not hope, and she is feeling very new.


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