One Small Soul
Some looked upon the cold corpse in fear, trembling at the gruesome sight.
Others stared dazed, wondering why the gods has chosen such a fate as this to befall her.
Her body lay twisted and distorted on the concrete ground in front of the small schoolhouse. This schoolhouse was someone's personal torture chamber, the very place her fragile heart had been broken to bits slowly and morbidly. The place was free of physical weapons, but harbored verbal knives and swords, dipped in sickly sweet poison. All the time, she had been looked past, and ignored by her teachers and peers. The adults in her life had looked past her, ignoring her, and pushing her far away from them. No one wanted to take on the rebel, the sharp tongued little girl, even as it was obvious that she was bleeding on the inside, and her mask crumbled around the edges each day. Her elders all spent the day tossing her in between each other, hoping not to be the one to deal with her daily antics, the same antics that she used to show she needed a mentor or a parent in her life. Her peers regarded her as a freak, and they isolated her from their inner circles, shunning her from their normal social buzz. Through all of this, she kept her head high, light a mighty stallion refusing to be broken in. She kept her lips sealed shut, and kept her tears behind her lashes. They never noticed the pain and sorrow and agony they had caused her, the plethora of people, names long forgotten in the midst of the nightmare.
Some cried in fear as they wondered what was to be done, staring shocked at the small, smashed little angel.
Others whispered among themselves, not understanding what their actions had caused.
Life continued on as it had been, except a small face did not appear on time every day for class, a loud voice did not harmonize with the rest of the students droning through the pledge, the little table in the shadowed corner was not occupied during lunch, and the world was without one soul.