[ WP ] What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face ? How would this change our world ? Tell the story ...

Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. 
 
 Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted `` yeah''. No one questioned it. 
 
 Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. 
 
 Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. 
 
 Marin did n't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most.
