This is a compilation of 4 micro fictions... making it a short flash fiction. Hope you enjoy. 


***

She walks slowly down the stairs from their little bathroom. Her stomach is sick, and she feels weak, but at least she'll be skinny- she'll look like all those beautiful girls in those magazines. She picks her backpack up, which feels like it weighs a ton, and walks out the door and to the bus stop. Right past her mother, right past her father, past all her neighbors. They smile, they wave, they say nothing.

***

His head is laid on his arms- arms that are covered with long sleeves in summer. It seems gravity just keeps pushing more and more on his shoulders, weighing him down so much that when he walks, he is practically curled in on himself- a defensive, protective position. He walks home- home where his sanctuary is, his safe haven- but before reaching there, he runs into them. They shove him to the ground, calling him hurtful names and harming him physically with feet and fists. Nobody sees, nobody helps, nobody says anything.

***

They watch. They watch her, they wonder what they can do. They look up numbers to give to their friends, but their friends push the numbers away. Their minds tell them to give up, and so they do.

They sit with him, at lunch, poke at his side- trying to make him laugh or bring him out of his daze. One lifts a part of his sleeve, and when questioned by him if the one saw anything, the one says a simple "No."- lying. He saw the scars- the pain. He wonders how to help, but is too late.

***

They take control of their situation, crazy calm as they both pick up their destruction: her- sleeping pills, him- a razor. They escape the pain, leaving behind notes- not knowing why, but doing so anyway- for the ones who didn't notice that though they were living, they were not alive.