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A young girl walks onto the stage, illuminated by the spotlight's sudden appearance. Her face is obscured by both her hair and hoodie. She tentatively lifts the hoodie, revealing her face. Her dirty blonde hair covers a quarter of her face, and her glasses glare aggressively due to the spotlight. Her eyes are an unnatural shade of purple. She walks up to a mic, and taps on it three times apprehensively. She speaks three words into the mic. "...am I interrupting?" she smirks as the words reverberate off of the walls. "I've a story to tell. Will you listen?" she asks the nonexistent audience. Silence is her only answer, but she appears to have heard something different. She sighs softly and begins.

"Can you imagine it? Isolated for most of your life. The only company you have is the voices you hear, and the things you see. It messes with your psyche. When you do get human contact, you interrupt them. They glare at you like some kind of human abomination. So you shrink back into the background. Soon, the tears become a nightly ordeal. Wishing to have someone like you. This...is where our story starts off."

The girl pauses, as if waiting for someone. When she discovered she truly is isolated, she resumes the grim story.

"A young girl was born into this world. She was doomed from the start. Craving fantasy over reality, she despised her life. Throughout Primary School, she was bullied constantly by others, and her teachers only instigated the fights between them. She was forced to become violent, sadistic even, to cope with the violence. This ended soon. But her adopted nature would be a part of her she wished she had lost. Middle school was mediocre for her to say the least. She had nearly committed suicide over the abuse in 6th grade. She went to 7th grade a broken child. Her eyes had the 100 mile stare to them, and darkness underneath them. The one child that reached out immediately broke her heart in two. She was again bullied for who she was. She retreated into the background, and never spoke up."

The girl narrating stifles a sob, as if it is painful for her to recount this. She curses in a foreign language, just barely loud enough for her to hear. She shakes her head, clears her throat, and continues on.

"Come the next year, she's more of a mess than ever. Silently crying each night now became impossible, as if she had no tears left. She would silently convulse in pain each night, due to her unbearable headaches that occurred everyday. She finally resorted to the internet. The rest I am unallowed to disclose, or you have already found it out. This is the story of Rob. This is my story. Rob never was a separate person. Simply...a person I chose to emulate. She doesn't even exist..." 

The girl looks at the camera, which was placed on the stage, near the mic, as if with sorrow. Her eyes sport a tired and remorseful glance to them. She sighs, nearly on the verge of breaking down again. She coughs violently, and after the coughs subsided, she spoke in a near whisper.

"I'm sorry for lying..." 

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