It was a Wednesday. That kind of day where everything feels gray, even if the sun is out.
Zariah didn't speak much. She didn't need to. Her silence had become her shield. At school, she did what she always did—answered questions, submitted homework, smiled just enough to avoid suspicion.
Only Jasmine saw the truth behind it all.
They barely spoke that morning. Jasmine had been pulled into a group project, and Zariah didn't fight it. In fact, she felt almost... relieved. Like the distance gave her room to sink again.
By lunch, the fog in her head was thick. She hadn't eaten in two days. Her stomach clenched, but her heart felt colder than her skin.
I'm tired again, she thought. Tired in a way sleep won't fix.
After school, she walked home slowly, her hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands. The weight of everything pressed in—like the walls of her mind were closing tighter each hour. Her thoughts whispered louder.
"Just end it."
"No one will notice."
"You already tried once. You're just wasting time now."
She made it to the house, barely hearing her mom on the phone in the kitchen. Went straight to the bathroom. Locked the door.
She didn't take the pills this time. She didn't reach for the blade.
She just sat there.
On the floor.
Numb.
But then her phone buzzed—one soft vibration.
She almost didn't check it. But something in her hand moved without permission. She glanced down.
Text from an unknown number.
"Hi… I know this is random, but I found your sketchbook yesterday. You left it in the art room. Your drawings… they're beautiful. I hope you're okay. You don't know me but… your art helped me today. Just thought you should know."
Zariah froze.
Someone had seen her drawings?
She had stuffed that sketchbook deep into her backpack—she thought. How did it end up in the art room?
Her fingers trembled, but not from fear. From something else. Shock. Confusion. A flicker of warmth. Someone out there—a stranger—had looked at her pain and called it beautiful.
Not broken.
Not dangerous.
Beautiful.
She stared at the message, the tightness in her chest rising up into her throat. A tear slid down her cheek, and she let it. Just one.
She didn't text back.
She didn't move for a long time.
But for the second time in her life… she stayed.