Nobody
By Hallah McCall
17
They called her Nobody, not a soul believed she was worth the effort of naming. She was nothing more than a minor annoyance. She lived in silence, unable to maintain a voice of her own. She was the shadow of someone who once was, but could never be again. Nobody was no more than a corpse left above ground so others could laugh at her fate. One day however, Nobody was noticed. Nobody was seen by a peer, though she wasn't seen in the kindest of lights. Slowly, people began to notice poor Nobody even more, every day she was berated with hateful words and painful actions. She was beaten to horrible extents that no one ever bothered to stop. Eventually, Nobody discovered a new fear of hers.People. She began isolating herself, locking herself away in her room, her personal prison.
As the months past Nobody began to revive herself, remembering the fighter she once was through music and writing, she found her lost strength. She saw people who had been just like her rise to unbelievable heights. They’d accomplished so much and she couldn't help but think. ‘Why can’t I do the very same?’ Confidence began to well up in her heart and soul, and soon she found the courage to face the world. Ever so cautiously she inserted herself back into her old life. She was ignored at first. But when people began to tease and put her down once more, she stood up and fought back. Nobody stood up for herself and the other down trodden outcasts. When the bullies grew tired of her new stand offish ways they moved to the other so called ‘freaks.’ Nobody however, wouldn't have it. She fought and she fought hard. Never backing down despite the blood or the bruises. Nobody gave a voice to those who ,like her those many months ago, had lost their own. Never abandoning her new found friends and always standing strong against what anyone had to throw at her.
Time passed as Nobody came ever so close regaining everything she’d once lost, but there was one thing she desperately wished to reclaim; her long-lost name. One day, as she sat in her creaking chair scribbling down another story, someone gave her back what she’d lost those many years ago. To this day she can recall the words spoken to her: “Good morning Hallah, what are you writing about today? Can I read it?”
I hope it doesn't take much to guess that Nobody was who I used to be and who I’ll always remember. When I lost my name I felt like nothing would ever be the same. And I was right. Nothing was the same after that. But I was wrong about how it would be different. I thought I’d spend the next several years of this world underground but I’m still here. I realized that I could not regain my name by myself. It would be given by someone who cared enough to know my story, and deserved to know my name.