She carefully pulled the headphones out of her ears and put them in her pocket. She walked slowly on, trying to avoid each of the looks that were on her. Her head was bowed, no one should see her tear-streaked face. Nobody should look behind the facade. She had laboriously built this wall around herself, did not want to be hurt by anyone anymore,trapped,alonein her own loneliness.
She reached the hall with her mind far away to ignore the chatter of the othersalonein herownworld. Here the thoughts were often dark and painful, but not nearly as much as what she had to endure outside. The dark-haired woman turned her head to the window, she watched the first falling snowflakes. The wind swayed them tenderly, carried by invisible, gentle hands, they were lowered to earth in a graceful dance. A short, painless, gentle life. She wished for something like that too. Her eyes were empty, no emotion, no movement to be found in them. Cold. Expressionless. Empty. Everything was destroyed. It was destroyed. Everything that was here, her body, her mind, hersoulwas broken.

It rang.

Everyone was in their seats, she was sitting alone in the back row. Shunned by everyone, even the teacher no longer paid any attention to them. Nobody paid any attention to them. It belonged here and yet it didn't. Trapped in an unreal reality that was a nightmare reality.
The lonely girl took her notebook out of her pocket and began to draw.Eyes are the mirror of the soul- she drew eyes, she had already drawn hundreds of eyes -was then her soul empty or did she simply no longer have any?. While the class was studying probability, she was an artist.Can you take the most unique thing from a person?. Everything she drew had expression.Mourning, joy, pain, love, happiness - eyes are the mirror to the soul, their pictures sparkled with life.
When, in a moment of inattention, her pen fell to the floor, it suddenly became quiet. Everyone turned to her and then she saw him. She had never seen him before. Their eyes met, as if tied for a few seconds, then his gaze changes into horror. Hers stayed cool and expressionless. There was a murmur and he turned around again. Something had been strange in his look, but he wasn't going to care about her anyway. If he was new, which was to be assumed, then the others would prevent him from coming to her, he would even join in. Take part in breaking it a little more.
The young woman breathed in and out gently, picked up her pen and went on drawing. But something had changed, her protective walls were careful, registered every change and her subconscious caused her to be more careful. No more thoughtless moments, she didn't want to be exposed to his gaze again.This is how she spent the first two hours until break. Outwardly calm and inconspicuous as always, inwardly vigilant and it did not escape her that the newcomer turned around to her one or the other time. But the real nightmare only began when the doorbell rang.