Mariah stands at the threshold of the high school hallway, heart heavy and palms clammy against her sides. The bustle of students around her feels like a drone, and the vibrant chatter fades into the background as she regard her reflection in the glass trophy case. Her brown curly hair frames her face, the soft curls bouncing as she shakes her head, trying to shake off the weight she carries.

She's wearing that red dress again, the one that makes her feel fierce and bold, even if it’s just for a moment. The medium red lipstick highlights Mariah's tan skin, but today, even the color feels muted. She applied it with care, as if a layer of paint could mask the ache of disappointment and the flicker of dread that lingers in her chest. But no amount of makeup can cover the bruises left behind by her boyfriend’s hurtful words.

The corridors are decorated with posters celebrating school spirit and upcoming events —another season of pep rallies and crowded hallways where laughter reigns. Mariah once loved these moments, the way laughter rolled through the air like music. But lately, it’s as if she's in a separate world, one where shadows loom longer than they ought to.