All she could see was red.
The red streaks of light from the sunrise across the horizon, the red cardigan she had just put on, fresh from the dryer, and still slightly warm. She glanced down to see a linty red apple falling out of her brown lunch bag, and her red backpack that she had used since eighth grade, sitting lopsided on the passenger seat, just like it always had been.
 
And then she looked up.
The sight was so familiar; too familiar to be frightened by its approach.   It was just another morning, another basic Tuesday, another routine drive to another normal day of school.  But this time, when she looked out at her surroundings, she didn’t see a black pavement road, and the ombre red rock cliffs flanking both sides of the highway.
Instead, she saw a red truck, a huge semi-truck, veering right towards her, just seconds away from her car, seconds away from the dark scum red paint of the truck scraping against her bright yellow Volkswagen bug. 
Seconds away from catastrophe.
Her brown eyes lingered on the truck. And for some reason, she wasn’t sad or angry or scared by the sight of its dirty mirrors and blinding headlights. There was only one emotion she was feeling: confusion.
Why isn’t anyone helping me?
Why me?
What have I done wrong?
I have done everything right.
She instinctively closed her eyes and focused all of her energy on finding something to hold on to. She needed something, a person, a fact, a memory to explain why this was happening to her.
  A picture settled into her head.
Her brow wrinkled, remembering so vividly the stench of green beans, the crusty red tables, and seventy bored teenagers scrolling through their phones absentmindedly.
The picture was of a cafeteria. Stacks of crimson painted stone made up twelve columns, three to each side, with a pair of restrooms to the right and the lunch line to the left.  The jail like room was full of round, somewhat sticky red tables lined in rows.
She was sitting at her usual lunch table, quietly unpacking her lunch, without saying a word. Her brown bag softly rustled as she folded it back and took out her bottled water. Her eyes tilted up as thoughts swirled in her brain about each and every one of the plastic Barbie doll “friends” seated at her table.
Her eyes scanned the table, stopping at the person seated across from her. It was a girl, seventeen years old, and a junior at her high school, with a long shiny black ponytail that swirled whenever she made the slightest move. The girl was wearing a red quarter sleeve blouse, and white colored jeans. Her eyes shifted from left to right, deciding which conversations were worth her time.
She looked away from the black ponytailed girl and put the cap back on her water bottle. She set the bottle down in front of the only remaining empty spot next to her. 
“Hello” she heard an unfamiliar voice coming from behind her.
She turned around and examined the girl that was standing behind her. It was a new girl. Her hair was brown and bushy, like she had brushed it too much; and her body was short and curvy, with slightly tanned skin. She was wearing a yellow t-shirt with olive green cargo pants.
She looked at the new girl and tilted her head slightly to the right. She didn’t really know what to think of her. On the outside, the girl looked like a complete and utter mess. Although, when she smiled, you could feel sunny warmth radiating through the air, and her bright blue eyes, hidden behind huge rectangular rims, looked so genuine and sincere.
“May I sit here?” the girl took one hand off of her yellow lunch tray and put her hand on the top of the empty black chair.
She looked at the empty chair and then across the table at the girl’s bright red shirt.
The girl seated across from her slowly looked up and stared at the new girl for a few seconds, her face bearing an expression of bitter amusement.
“What?” the girl across the table from her swung her long black ponytail in their direction.
“Could I sit here?” the new girl didn’t hesitate.
The girl twirled a piece of her long and shiny hair in her right hand, as one corner of her mouth twitched upward, and for a split second, she looked around at her comrades, and then burst out a laughing gasp. The girl quickly covered her mouth, but it was clear what was going to happen next.
“Ummm, Kayleigh”
She looked up and made direct eye contact with the ice eyes of the girl who was seated across from her.
“Kayleigh, you’re saving that seat for someone, right?” she flipped her long finger towards the empty seat.
This question had two answers: yes or no. To most people, both answers would have been acceptable. But to the girl she was talking to, there was a right and wrong answer.
No. I’m not saving this seat for anyone.
That was the wrong answer.
Kayleigh nodded her head yes, picked up her brown bag lunch, and placed it in the empty seat next to her.
“Sorry” the girl who was seated across from her hissed, then blatantly smiled, turning away from the new girl.
The new girl gave Kayleigh a quick smile as she nodded and walked away, heading towards the bathrooms on the other side the room.
“Oh my god” the girl across from her shouted to her friends “Did you see her pants?” everyone laughed “I kind of feel… bad for her”  
“Good thing Kayleigh didn’t say anything” a blonde hair girl with huge pearl earrings said cornering Kayleigh with her eyes.
“Good thing Kayleigh never says anything” the girl swept her long ponytail onto her back, as everyone burst out into laughter. 
That was yesterday.
Not even twenty four hours ago she had watched that girl walk off into the bathroom, without saying a single word. A few seconds ago, her brain had been in knots, trying to figure out why she had been put in this situation.
Now it was all clear.
She had never actually lived her life. All she had done was followed the routine of someone else’s. Whether it was a cliché snotty popular girl or a misunderstood new girl, all she had ever done was become an extra in someone else’s story.
She asked the question “why isn’t anyone helping me?” Now she had the answer. She didn’t say a single word to the new girl. She hadn’t even given her a chance. Instead, she just sat there and did nothing.
I’m not the hero or the villain. I am a mere henchman, a slave, and a subject to whatever the bad guy tells me to do.
I am completely obsolete.
  She closed her eyes for the last time.
All she could see was red.
She, Kayleigh Baker, was going to be blown to pieces, smothered to death by a huge red truck, like she never existed.

She, Kayleigh Baker, was going to be blown to pieces by a huge red truck, like she never existed.

She was going to be blown to pieces by a huge red truck, like she never existed.

She was going to be blown to pieces like she never existed.

She was going to pieces like she never existed.

She never existed.