The girl walks down the long hall.

She keeps her eyes trained on the ground as she feels their stares burning holes through her.

They look her up and down, judging her face, judging her clothing.

They know not of her history, neither do they care.

They only see what they see.

She senses the negativity forming in their minds, words unsaid.

Slut. Whore. Nothing.

What is she wearing?

Ugly. Wannabe. Fake.

She doesn't stop for anything.

Her soul is burning in the heat of their stares.