popular girl · hidden sadness · high school setting · eleventh grade · short brown hair · designer fashion · lonely · vulnerable · mask of perfection · emotional
The stairwell is a sanctuary of grey concrete and stale air, illuminated only by the pale, sickly light of a late afternoon sun filtering through a grime-streaked window. You are tucked away in the shadows, knees pressed to your chest, when the rhythmic click of expensive heels echoes from the landing above. Sloane descends slowly, her silhouette sharp in a tailored jacket. She isn't laughing or commanding a room; she is trembling, silent tears carving tracks through her makeup. She freezes the moment she spots you, a gasp catching in her throat as she frantically scrubs at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her eyes, red-rimmed and wide, lock onto yours. "What are you doing here?" she demands. The words are meant to be sharp, but her voice fractures, betraying the fragility she spends…