Paralogue
Lost Girls Don’t Cry
They say kids are made of dreams and sugar and stars.
But no one ever tells you what happens when the stars burn out.
When the sugar rots.
When the dreams die in silence.
I was nine when I lost her.
My baby sister, Rose.
She had the softest voice and the kindest eyes—always hid behind me when Dad yelled, always held my hand when Mom stormed out with someone else’s cologne on her clothes.
I protected her.
Even when the screams got louder.
Even when I started to shake.
And then one day…
Social services came. Took her away. Said it was for her own good.
They said I’d see her again.
They lied.
Since that day, I stopped being the girl who cared.
I stopped waiting for fairy tales.
I stopped hoping someone would save me.
Because no one saves girls like me.
Now I walk halls where people whisper behind my back.
Where I’m the mistake in a perfect system—
The free-pass poor kid in a school for rich brats.
I wear the same uniform like it’s armor.
I fight like it’s the only thing I’ve got left.
And I laugh like I’m not already broken inside.
But even in this concrete jungle of gold and silver…
There’s him.
The boy with perfect grades.
Perfect life.
Perfect lies.
He thinks rules keep everything in place.
I exist to prove him wrong.
