She thought that it would be different. Feel different, at least. But she felt nothing. Nothing at all. Elisa hugged her knees to her chest, her tears dried by the wind around her.
She had wanted so very badly to just fit in! Elisa tried. She really did. She thought she had found friends. She thought that she was part of the group, that she was accepted, even loved.
It was all a lie. They told her she was a loser, a freak. The people she thought were her friends told her that she should die,
that she should kill herself so that they could be rid of her. Whispered it in the hallway during passing period. Tweeted it during football games. Facebooked about it over the weekend. Texted to her during classes.
When Elisa had been a child, she wished upon every star she saw for a happy life. She didn't care about riches, or fame--she just wanted to be happy. She could kick herself for being so stupid.
Those wishes were a sham, a phantom. There was no such thing, and she had been a fool to be so naive. Life was nothing but pain and hurt and despair, and it never got any better. Elisa knew that now. But it would be all better soon.
The wind rushing around the
water tower, and her, was almost deafening. She stood slowly, her eyes focusing on a distant star in the sky.
She stepped off the ledge.
The prompt is the third definition of the word PHANTOM. Constructive criticism is welcome--I've stepped way out of my comfort zone.