Get Hurt, Cieny

Chapter 2: The Unseen Burden

I never quite understood why the sun always seemed to shine brightest on the days I felt the lowest. The light, so warm and innocent, pouring through the cracks of my bedroom curtains, felt like a mockery of my inner storm. My hands gripped the edges of my notebook as I sat on my bed, staring at the words in front of me, but none of them made sense. Every line, every sentence I wrote felt like an empty promise. I couldn’t escape the pressure weighing on my chest.

School had been just as suffocating as I feared. The halls were crowded, filled with the usual chatter of people whose lives seemed so effortless, so carefree. They all had their friends, their families, their futures. But me? I felt like a shadow—flickering in and out, never truly seen, never truly understood. My role was to be the “nice girl,” the one people turned to when they needed something, the one who would always offer a smile no matter how tired I felt inside.

But who would look at me when I needed help? Who would carry my burden?

I closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind, but it wasn’t working. The thoughts swirled around like a storm in my head, crashing into each other with no place to go. The expectations from my family. The need to be perfect, to be someone who could hold everything together, even when I was falling apart. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind. “Cieny, you’re the one who can do this. You’re the one who can make it work. Don’t disappoint me.”

I couldn’t let her down. Not again.

A knock on my door broke my concentration.

“Cieny, are you alright?” It was my little brother, Aaron. His voice was soft, full of concern, but his words stung. He didn’t know how I felt. He couldn’t.

“I’m fine, Aaron,” I lied, forcing a smile that I hoped looked more genuine than it felt.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice filled with a quiet doubt.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I even believed myself.

“Okay… if you say so.” He lingered in the doorway for a moment before retreating, leaving me alone once again. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with the weight.

It wasn’t long after Aaron left that I heard the unmistakable sound of the school bell ringing. I groaned. The day wasn’t over yet.

I had to leave. I had to go.

With a sigh, I grabbed my bag and made my way out the door, pretending like I didn’t feel the heaviness of each step. My shoes scuffed against the pavement as I walked to school, my mind numb, my heart a little more fragile with each passing minute.

When I arrived, I found my usual spot under the old oak tree at the front of the school. It was my sanctuary, my place to breathe, to let the world spin around me while I stayed still, lost in the comfort of my own thoughts.

But today, something felt different. There was a presence in the air—something off, something I couldn’t shake.

And then I saw him.

Westley Norvajes.

He was standing by the entrance of the school, leaning against the brick wall with his usual nonchalant expression. His jet-black hair fell messily around his face, and his sharp features were softened by the sunlight. He didn’t seem to notice me at first, but the moment he did, his eyes locked onto mine.

For a split second, my heart stopped.

Westley had that effect on me.

He was the kind of person who seemed to have everything—looks, charm, popularity—everything but kindness. He was the boy everyone feared, everyone respected, and everyone avoided. And yet, there was something about the way he looked at me that felt almost... familiar.

He was the last person I expected to see here.

I turned my gaze away quickly, not wanting him to think I was staring. Not wanting to feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

But as I did, I heard his voice.

“Cieny Costa, right?” His tone was light, casual, but there was something about it that made me shiver.

I didn’t answer immediately, unsure of how to respond. What did he want with me? He wasn’t the type to approach someone like me.

“Yes, that’s me,” I finally managed, trying to sound confident, even though every fiber of my being wanted to retreat.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said, his eyes scanning me for a moment before resting on my face. “You’re the quiet one, right?”

I nodded, trying to keep my composure. I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself in front of him.

“Yeah. I guess I am.” I smiled, though it felt more like a mask than anything genuine.

He smirked. “I didn’t expect you to be the quiet type. You’ve got the whole ‘sweet and kind’ thing going on.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the sudden rush of emotions that swirled inside me. It wasn’t that I minded the compliments, but they felt so hollow coming from him. Was that all he saw in me? The girl who could smile and pretend everything was fine?

“You don’t know anything about me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my response. “I wasn’t trying to offend you,” he said, though there was an edge to his words. “I just thought you were different from the rest of the crowd.”

For a moment, I considered what he was saying. Was I really that different from everyone else? Did I want to be?

“I’m not really different,” I replied, my voice softer now. “I’m just trying to get through it all.”

His expression softened, though he didn’t say anything right away. For a brief moment, we just stood there, in silence, as the world continued on around us.

It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he finally spoke again.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. It felt strange, hearing those words from someone like him. Westley Norvajes didn’t offer help. He didn’t care about anyone else’s problems. Or at least, that’s what I thought.

“Thanks,” I said, unsure if I meant it.

He gave me a small nod before pushing off the wall and heading toward the school entrance.

As I watched him walk away, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of confusion and curiosity. Why had he spoken to me? What did he want?

And why, in that moment, did I feel like something had shifted, like the weight on my shoulders had just been made a little heavier?

Maybe this was only the beginning.

Maybe I wasn’t ready for whatever it was that was coming. But in some way, I knew I had to face it. I had no choice.

And whether I liked it or not, Westley Norvajes had just become a part of my story.