The SkiN

By MistressAli

Into a tight skin she crawled, and pulled it about her like a blanket.

The skin was thick. She kept quiet. She didn’t speak to them. She never let them in. The skin was thick. It protected her. But the skin was not opaque. She could see through it. She saw their judgments. She knew they saw her, saw all the ugliness. But she kept quiet. As long as she kept quiet, they, holding the guns, did not have rounds. She would not give them the ammunition. She would not let stupidity tumble forward in stuttering jumbled words.

After a time, the skin had fused into her. She had become aloof, bound to silence. She began to suffocate within herself. She could not yell for help in such a confining skin. She could not reach out. Her hands stayed by her sides. She would not give. She would not let the ones who loved her in. She didn’t believe in their words. They could not like what they saw. An ugly girl wrapped in a skin of silence, a shield of cold. She did not open her heart. She could not expect anything else in return.

Those who loved her - Left.

Let her rot within the skin. Give her what she deserves.

Inside the skin, the girl shriveled and shrank. Soon, there was nothing left where she stood. Only a thick ugly skin, cold and tainted and worthless. People did not see it; they did not care to look down. Footsteps trod it deep into the ground, where it rotted.

It was the only thing she deserved.