LAYLA

I stared at myself like I was trying to recognize a stranger. The mirror was too clean. Too honest. It didn’t blur anything, didn’t soften the edges the way people did when they looked at me. Blonde used to suit me better. Now my hair fell dark around my face, almost black under the bathroom light, like I was trying to bury something under it. It still didn’t work. Nothing ever really covered anything—it just made it harder for other people to notice. I tilted my head slightly, studying my reflection the way people study paintings they pretend to understand. Same face. Same eyes. Same lie. “They say you’re pretty.” The words sat in my head, flat and meaningless. Pretty. It was a useless word. People used it when they didn’t know anything else about you. When they didn’t want to know anything else about you. I leaned closer to the mirror, searching for something—anything—that felt real. Nothing. Just skin. Just features arranged in a way that made people look twice. If I could trade faces with someone—anyone—I would. Not because I hated how I looked. Because I hated that this face belonged to me. I exhaled slowly, my breath fogging up the glass for a second before disappearing. Figures. Even that didn’t last. I turned away before I could keep looking. The shower water hit too hot, but I didn’t adjust it. I just stood there and let it burn against my skin, watching the steam crawl up the tiles. It was easier to focus on that than anything else. If I stayed too long, I’d be late. If I rushed, I’d still feel like this. Didn’t matter though. My uniform hung exactly where I left it. White shirt. Blue vest. Skirt that hit just below my knees. Everything neat. Everything normal. I pulled it on without thinking, moving on autopilot. My hands knew what to do even if my head didn’t feel like it belonged to me. Bag. Books. Phone. Done. The house was quiet in that fake way—like it was pretending to be peaceful. Luke my 12 year old brother was at the table, legs swinging slightly under his chair, a bowl of cereal in front of him. He didn’t look up immediately. Just kept eating like it was the most important thing in the world. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. “Mom said you should drop me off at school.” He said as he still ate. I grabbed my keys from the counter, the metal cold against my fingers. “Why didn’t she do it?” I asked without looking at him. He shrugged like it didn’t matter. It probably didn’t. Not to him. I rolled my eyes and headed for the door. If he came, he came. If he didn’t, even better. The car started on the second try. Of course. I rested my head back against the seat for a second before pulling I was about to reverse out of the driveway. The silence didn’t last long though. The passenger door opened, then slammed shut harder than necessary. I didn’t look at him. “Seatbelt,” I muttered. He didn’t answer. The drive felt longer than it actually was. Forty-five minutes of nothing. Just the road stretching out in front of me and my thoughts trying to catch up. I stopped halfway to grab chips. Didn’t even remember deciding to. I just… ended up there. Bought them. Left. Didn’t question it. The school parking lot was already filling up. Same cars. Same people. Same routine. I hadn’t even turned off the engine when Luke slammed the door and took off. “d**k,” I muttered under my breath, because that was a shitty move. I grabbed my bag and the chips, holding onto them tighter than necessary. I hadn’t eaten last night. Didn’t feel like it. Didn’t feel like much of anything, actually. The hallway smelled like cheap perfume and floor cleaner. Lockers slammed. Voices overlapped. Laughter echoed like it belonged somewhere else. I got to mine, opening it slowly, taking my time like it mattered. It didn’t. “OMG—Layla, is that you??” I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. It was Lauren, she was Bright, Loud, Too much. I shut my locker and faced her anyway. She was standing there with Janice, who already looked annoyed just existing. “Obviously it’s her,” Janice said, rolling her eyes. “Unless she hired a body double.” Lauren ignored her. “Wait—no, it’s the hair. That’s it. The glow-up is insane. Marcus would literally lose his mind.” Marcus ? I almost laughed, Almost. But I didn’t say anything didn’t feel like feeding into it. Janice reached over, snatching the chips out of my hand like they belonged to her. “I don't think you need it.” she said, already opening them. I just watched her for a second. I didn’t stop her, I didn’t care enough to. “We should go,” she added, grabbing Lauren’s arm and pulling her away. Lauren waved like we were friends. We weren’t though, we were just two people who happen to know each other. I let out a slow breath once they disappeared into the crowd. I already hated being here. I went to the school field, the field was empty. It was good, I needed quiet, real quiet not the fake kind. I sat down on the low bleachers, digging into my bag and pulling out a cigarette. My fingers moved without hesitation, I grabbed a lighter, clicking on it. The flame flickered for a second before catching. I took a drag, holding it there longer than I needed to before exhaling. The smoke curled into the air, slow and lazy. For a second, everything inside me went quiet. Not better. Just… quieter. I leaned back slightly, staring out at the empty field. This was the only part that worked, the only thing that made everything dull enough to handle. Ever since— I stopped the thought before it could finish. Didn’t matter. It already lived in my head rent-free, didn’t need to invite it in, but it came anyway and I couldn't push it all out. It didn't come all at once. It never did. Just pieces by pieces, a voice, a room and a door clicking shut. I took another drag, sharper this time. My jaw tightened. I stared at the ground, focusing on the cracks in the concrete like I could fall into them if I looked hard enough. I hated my body. Not because of how it looked, but because it remembered things I didn’t want to. Because no matter what I did—no matter what I took, drank, smoked— It didn’t forget and neither did I. I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear into nothing. Just like everything else.