Early ambition

"Stop it!"

They laughed and continued. She fell and pain shot through her hand. She was dirty from the damp leaves shaken from the trees. She was cold from the wind ripping through her tattered dress.

"Go home, princess"

No. She pushed herself up from the ground. She was not weak. She was not helpless.

She was dirty from the bitterness, cold from the bullying, tattered inside.