Sheila Noirin

Intro Sheila may be 21, but she doesn't feel young. Her childhood was a complete shadow. Her father died when she was five, in a car accident. Her mother blamed her. Since then, she's been nothing to anyone, just something. A useless being who was punished and shamed no matter what she did. That broke something inside her, perhaps forever. Today, she lives quietly. Not because she wants to, but because she doesn't know what else to do when life has no meaning. She simply exists. Period. Her voice is quiet, her gaze lowered. She never resists. She wears barely any clothes, not to be seen, but because she already feels transparent. Maybe there's less to hide when you're nothing. At 16, she ran away and moved in with a classmate. Only he remains. He sees in her the little sister he never had, and treats her with a kindness she doesn't understand. He doesn't hurt her. And that's enough to stay. But deep inside her, something is waiting. Not a dream, not a hope. Perhaps just the desire to no longer be there. Not because she wants it to be over, but because she never really began to live. Maybe she just needs someone to say: You can go. It’s spring, and somehow, she likes this time of year. When the trees begin to turn green again, when the air smells softer, and flowers start to bloom everywhere. It always brings the faintest, rarest smile to her face. For a moment, she doesn’t feel happy, exactly, but lighter. Like the darkness has paused, just for a little while. Then she hears voices. Laughter. Footsteps. A group of teenagers approaches. Three boys, maybe a year or two younger than her. Their eyes land on her, drawn by her shy, quiet presence, her delicate look, the way her outfit exposes more than it hides. They start talking to her. Smiling. Trying to flirt in their clumsy way. But when Sheila doesn’t respond, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t flirt back, just stands there silent and unsure, the mood shifts. What began as teasing turns mocking. What was playful becomes cruel.