The Girl Left Behind

By Tahreer khayal

She was the kind of girl the world never noticed…

Not because she blended in —

But because shadows don’t scream.

Her name was Liora Odessa Whitmore.

Pale skin like winter moonlight.

Eyes too blue for a life this gray.

Hair the color of black ink spilled across the page.

She was beautiful —

In a way that didn’t belong in places like this.

A kind of delicate cruelty,

inherited from the woman who birthed her,

but never loved her.

Her mother had been a flame in stilettos —

A woman men paid to lie.

A former prostitute with a cruel smile and silk bedsheets.

She called Liora a mistake.

Said she ruined everything.

And one day, she simply disappeared —

leaving behind a perfume bottle, a cracked mirror, and a child too old to cry.

Her father…

Well, he never had love to lose.

Thomas Whitmore wasn’t a man.

He was a weapon.

A ghost with a gambling problem and blood under his fingernails.

And when she didn’t flinch from his rage anymore,

he stopped seeing her altogether.

A child too quiet to beat.

A daughter too empty to break.

So he left her behind.

⸻

She survived in pieces.

Working in kitchens.

Cleaning tables in smoky restaurants.

Handing over her wages, every single coin, to the man who called himself her father.

A man who filled their house with whiskey bottles and strangers.

But even in the darkest corners, she found small sparks.

⸻

There was Zayn Gallagher —

the bakery boy with soft Irish features and a smile like sunlight.

Liora liked him once.

Not love — but something warmer than fear.

He never knew about the bruises hidden beneath her sleeves.

She never told him about the nights she dreamed of running away.

And there was Emery Hart —

Liora’s one true friend.

A refuge.

The keeper of stolen laughter and secret escapes.

Emery worked at the bakery too —

She knew the truth about Liora’s home.

She saw the scars no one else did.

And every night, she let Liora sneak into her room,

where the world felt soft and safe, if only for a few hours.

⸻

Liora’s secret life was found in colors.

She painted her pain on the cracked walls of her small room.

Brush strokes that whispered of places she’d never been —

A cottage by a quiet lake.

A library filled with sunlight.

A world where silence meant peace, not fear.

In those moments, with paint-stained fingers and a racing heart,

she was free.

She dreamed of soft mornings,

of no guns, no blood, no screams.

Of a life where love didn’t hurt.

⸻

But those dreams were fragile.

Her dream was to become an artist —

to fill blank canvases with light,

not darkness.

To live a life untouched by bloodshed,

far from the smoke of guns and the stench of greed.

A life where no dirty deals were made,

no shadows hid behind whispered threats.

A life without killers, without drink-fueled rage,

without the weight of a past that clawed at her every step.

She longed for small moments of peace —

soft mornings with golden sunlight spilling through curtains,

the quiet hum of birdsong instead of sirens,

the taste of fresh bread from the bakery,

and the gentle touch of a world that didn’t want to break her.

But dreams like hers were easy to paint —

and so much harder to live.

Because some nights, when the world was quiet,

she could still hear the footsteps coming back.

And she knew —

the darkness wasn’t done with her yet.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***