It’s not a surprise when Celina is missing again. She could be using the restroom, or maybe had an emergency, though, that was not the problem. She had purposely left in the case of Cyra. Oh Cyra. She’d been waiting, once again, for the last fifteen minutes of her lunchtime for her ‘best friends’ to arrive yet they’re completely out of sight. It’s been nearly three weeks since their unusual habit of disappearing whenever she’s around, not to mention their frequent whispering to each other; Cyra this, and Cyra that. Was she truly their friend? That’s what young fifteen year old Cyra thought about. Was she truly their friend? No one could ever be really sure. Cyra knew everything about the three, Celina, Annabelle and Emmaline, yet they hardly knew anything about Cyra. All they could point out was her gorgeous sun-kissed skin, her honey-glazed eyes, or her soft brunette hair with the slight highlights they had helped her do. They were friends for a year now yet Cyra’s physical appearance was all they knew about her. Soon enough, lunch was over and throughout the next few classes before the end of school, Cyra thought, thought, and thought some more. Were her friends ignoring her? Had she done something wrong to upset them? She couldn’t think of any reasons for why they could be upset with her but it just made her think even more. More, more, and much, much more, until she felt sick in her stomach. With only one more class to go, she knew she had to keep it in, but she couldn’t, of course she couldn’t, yet she tried anyway. As she strolled through the crowded hallways on the way to her next class, she caught murmurs, quiet little murmurs about herself.

“I can’t believe Cyra would do that, she’s so fake!”

“I always knew she was a brat, I never fully trusted her.”

And so, so, so many other things. The more she advanced through the hallway, the more energy she started losing, getting slower by the second, until eventually she came to a stop, trembling as she fell to the floor. She could see her three ‘friends’ now, Annabelle’s dolly features, her coquette style. She could see Celina, her luscious golden hair, her sea blue eyes. And of course Emmaline with her long figure, her perfect, clear skin. They were laughing with some girl, ignoring Cyra’s presence completely. Tears seeped out of her eyes, drowning her no longer lovely face, fat drops falling onto her lips, leaving a trace of a salty taste. No, said Cyra in her head, don’t cry here, please don’t, run, run away, she told herself. And she did, she ran, she ran so far, her school was long gone, she ran so far she’d reached her only place she felt truly loved, her home. Cyra creeped around her house to find her room’s window. She couldn’t wait to get in her bed and draw all night, cuddle her mother until she had to leave, or listen to the radio with her father, arms around each other where everything was fine. However, as she scuttled past her parents bedroom, she heard familiar voices, harsh voices, they were arguing.

“Look, Brit-”

“There is no ‘look Brit’, we are not getting a divorce, just not yet. I already told you Pete, I know how hard it will be for Cyra if we suddenly tell her we’re getting a divorce.” Her mother interrupted in a shrill tone. They were clearly in a heated argument, and as Cyra approached closer to the window, their voices became piercing.

“I know Brittany, but I’m sure Cyra’s gonna understand, it’s been long enough, and she’s a big kid now and-”

“NO. I know how to deal with this and if you’re just going to act like your immature self just because of thi-”

“I AM NOT IMMATURE. I just want to get out of this relationship and have you out of my life as soon as possible.” Cyra’s father replied bluntly. Cyra was in distress, their once perfect, loving, family was now a mess. A wreck she didn’t want to believe, yet she listened in, hoping it was some sort of prank.

“It’s not that I don’t want you out of my life too, I just care for our daughter-”

“Then what are you saying? I don’t care about Cyra? Are you seri-” Cyra couldn’t take it any longer, she leaped through the window into her parents bedroom, watching them teary eyed. Brittany, her mother, was wearing her matching mother-daughter pajamas, her chocolate hair looked dead, her amber eyes full of ire. Cyra usually resembled her mother very well and unless you looked closely, they looked exactly the same. Yet now, with her mother getting older, and her tempered face, it was different. Her father was still in his work clothes, a simple blue button up and black pants. His typically neat, fair hair was now messy, his expression too, raving with fury. Cyra had her fathers smile, yet now? There was no smile to connect her with him. She could finally see her true parents now, they weren’t perfect nor loving as she always thought so. They were never happy, it was all just an act, an illusion, for young Cyra that wouldn’t understand a thing.

“C-Cyra….? When did you get here, my baby?” Her mother’s voice suddenly soft, her gaze stern as she looked into Cyra’s welled eyes. “You should’ve rung the doorbell, you don’t need to climb through the windows, you know?”

“Divorce?” Said Cyra, completely ignoring her mothers comment, “You’re having a divorce? When? Why-”

“Listen Cyr-”

“No, you listen dad, how long have you guys been doing this? Have you been putting up with each other all because of me-” Cyra cut in, her heart rate increasing, feeling more furious at herself than her parents.

“Of course not sunshine, it’s just that…um…”

“Exactly, you can’t even answer me dad, it is my fault.”

“Look Cyra, we were just waiting until you were a bit older, so you wouldn’t feel out of place-”

“I already feel out of place, mom. I just lost all my friends, everyone at school probably hates me for some stupid reason and now, now you’re having a divorce, a divorce and it’s all my fault, it’s all because of me.” Cyra choked out, scooting away into her room before she was fully sobbing. She could hear parents chatter as they ran after her, though unfortunately for them, Cyra had locked the door. Her parents banged on her door, begging her to open the door yet, Cyra sat still in her bed, staring at the wall, tears streaming down her face. It seemed Cyra was unable to get any answers today, no answers to her why’s or her what’s. She had no idea what was going on. What was happening to her life? Her once perfect life, now broken into pieces. Friends? Broken. School? Broken. Family? Broken. Cyra? Broken too. She was broken. How was it going to be now? School with all that gossiping but no one was going to be talking to her yet, about her. Home with all that jabbering but once again not going to be talking to her yet, because of her. She was going to be lonely. Alone, Cyra thought.