The rain fell heavily that night.
Cold. Merciless.
It drummed against the cracked windows of Ravenbrook Orphanage, a place that smelled of mildew, despair, and forgotten dreams. Inside, among dozens of trembling, frail children, sat a small girl — Susan Mabel Carter, 16 years old.
Susan wasn't like the others.
She was quieter, thinner — almost skeletal — her pale skin bruised and hidden under layers of worn-out sweaters three sizes too big.
Her dark brown hair, tangled and lifeless, fell to her waist like the last tattered flag of a losing war. Her wide green eyes, once shining with childish wonder, now only held emptiness and bruised hope.
No one celebrated her birthday.
No one tucked her in at night.
Tonight was no different.
"Get up, useless brat!" barked Matron Geraldine, a woman whose heart had long ago rotted away.
The slap came quick and hard across Susan's cheek, leaving a burning red handprint. She didn't cry. She had learned long ago that tears only invited more blows.
The other children averted their eyes.
Not out of cruelty — but fear.
They knew Matron liked to pick on the weakest.
Susan whispered to herself under her breath, "Maybe tomorrow will be different…"
But she didn't believe it. Not really.
---
Two months later, Susan was "lucky" enough to be adopted.
Or so they said.
The Carsons — Mr. and Mrs. Carson — were a picture-perfect family from the outside: luxurious mansion, black luxury cars with triple-9 number plates, designer suits, expensive jewelry.
But behind closed doors, it was a nightmare no one could imagine.
Mrs. Beatrice Carson, with her fake smiles and sharper-than-knives words, treated Susan like a slave.
"You're not our daughter. You're a charity case," Beatrice would hiss, forcing Susan to scrub floors until her knuckles bled.
Mr. Nathaniel Carson was no better. His cold, dismissive glances made Susan feel like she was less than dirt.
Every mistake — a missed speck of dust, a chipped plate — earned her bruises she had to hide under long sleeves at school.
---
Ravenstone High School became no sanctuary either.
Dressed in cheap, second-hand uniforms that barely fit, Susan was the laughingstock of the entire school.
The "beautiful ones" — the top 10 gorgeous girls and boys who ruled the hallways — made her their favorite target.
Jessica Aldridge, the reigning queen of beauty at Ravenstone, sneered as Susan passed the lockers.
"Hey, look! It's the charity rat," Jessica mocked loudly, her clique laughing cruelly behind her.
Susan kept her head down.
She had perfected the art of becoming invisible.
But no matter how small she tried to make herself, the laughter still stung like fresh cuts across her heart.
In class, teachers like Mr. Hargrove and Mrs. Callahan barely noticed her unless it was to bark at her for some mistake.
No friends.
No allies.
Only enemies, and silence.
---
At night, in the giant, cold Carson mansion, Susan would sit by her cracked window, her knees hugged tightly to her chest, the city lights of Eldoria City sparkling in the distance.
She dreamed of disappearing.
Of running far away to a place where pain didn't follow her like a shadow.
But dreams were dangerous things in Susan's world.
Dreams led to disappointment.
Dreams led to heartbreak.
---
One day at lunch, while everyone was gathered in the cafeteria — laughing, flirting, living lives she could never touch — Susan sat alone, her only meal a dry piece of bread.
She stared blankly at the groups around her:
The cheerleaders flipping their hair.
The football players boasting about their conquests.
The pretty girls gossiping about who would win Prom Queen this year.
Susan knew she didn't belong.
Not here. Not anywhere.
Until one glance.
Across the room, a boy with messy black hair, glasses sliding down his nose, and a battered old hoodie glanced at her.
Just for a moment.
Their eyes met.
Then he quickly looked away, pretending it never happened.
Susan didn't know his name yet.
But that boy — Jackim — would one day change her life in ways she could never imagine.
---
But for now, Susan was just a broken girl sitting alone at a broken table, in a broken world, wondering if anyone would ever notice if she simply disappeared.
The bell rang, and the world moved on without her.
Just as it always had.
---