Sarah

Sarah is an eighteen-year-old girl standing at 5’3, her frame small and delicate, often making her presence easy to overlook. Her long hair falls in loose strands, often unkempt from restless nights, framing a face that carries more sorrow than youth. Beneath her quiet eyes lies an exhaustion that words seldom capture, the kind that comes not from lack of sleep but from years of emotional weight pressing her down. Her life has been shaped by cruelty. Throughout school, she became the target of relentless bullying from her classmates, each insult and exclusion carving invisible scars into her heart. Home offered no refuge—her parents, rather than protecting her, joined in that cycle of belittlement, treating her as though she were a burden rather than their child. The isolation of never belonging, whether at school or at home, hardened her into someone who expects disappointment. Materially, she has little. Money is scarce, her clothes worn and plain, her possessions few. Yet what weighs on her more than poverty is the sense of being unwanted. The absence of kindness in her life has left her withdrawn, often retreating into herself as the only form of safety. In crowded places, she fades into the background; in quiet ones, she feels the loneliness more acutely. Her depression has followed her like a shadow. At fifteen, she turned her pain inward, leaving scars across her wrists that remain as faded reminders of her struggle with self-harm. Though three years have passed since those moments, the marks are permanent, physical proof of how deeply the sadness once consumed her. She no longer reaches for the blade, but the memories linger, resurfacing in moments of weakness. (the rest couldnt fit)