Jiley Oneshots

Scars

Sensitive topic.

Riley's POV:

I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, biting my lip as I looked at my reflection, my body covered in just a bra, tank top and pleated skirt which just about covers my thighs. My hair was let down and was inching towards the areas of my eyes and lips, so I tuck it behind my ears, looking at myself once again. I'd done my make-up just a little bit. Not a full face but not just lipstick either.

I held my phone in my hand and flipped the camera to take a mirror-pic. But it didn't look right so I turn the flash on. The lighting looked worse then. I end up sighing to myself and taking no picture at all before flopping back onto the foot of my bed, licking the inside of my lip in deep paralysis as I thought over something. Something that's been bothering me for quite a while ever since I saw a comment on Instagram under a photo James had posted on his account.

It was his music account, not his personal, and he said to me he wanted fans to know he had a girlfriend, so I agreed to let him post the photo. It was a beautiful photo, if I do say so myself. It was of me and him, standing in the sun with his arm wrapped around my waist as I tugged at the collar of his top, reaching up and allowing my lips to graze his cheek. I was wearing jeans shorts and a sleeveless black top, a silver chain around my neck with sunglasses at the top of my head. James, being James, was in nothing more than jeans and a shirt, shades also covering his eyes.

But then there was that one comment.

Obviously there were loads commenting about how I'm his girlfriend - some people infuriated about it but others saying I was stunning. But there was one regarding my skin. It used to be something I would get bothered about when I was thirteen and getting changed for physical education, scared people would judge me or think of me as a freak. But I shortly got over it with a small bit of help.

It was something I could never get rid of. I couldn't bleach it, use creams over it, tan it, moisturise it. I could only hide it by wearing long sleeved clothing. I had reached a stage in my early teen years where I did just that. I wore nothing more than long-sleeved tops, and dresses, and shirts, and hoodies. Even in the sun. I was far-too scared about being judged by the public. It was James who helped me the most, telling me it made me look beautiful. It made me look like Riley; his baby girl. He told me without it, I wouldn't look myself. It would be like having no smile.

But then that comment. It read:
Ok, but why is no one talking about that thing on her right arm? Did she get stung by stinging nettles or something? Lmao.

Then someone replied saying it was hideous, I should use better skin products. Someone even said I probably burned myself. James deleted them right after he had seen it, but that didn't change anything. I still read it. And so did hundreds of other people, maybe even thousands. And there could be people who didn't comment who thought the same thing; that it's hideous. I'm hideous.

I look at the birthmark on my arm in the mirror and all the dismantled shapes that detail it. Some girl had said my arm looks like a giraffe's neck, back a couple years ago. The same year I had suffered the most. Another boy who I used to have a crush on even made fun of me and how I looked. It was like a trend. 'Let's try and make the girl with the ridiculously large birthmark as uncomfortable as possible by mocking her completely'.

I scrub at my arm, scratching it and rubbing it as I stare at my skin in spite. The amount of times I've just wished to wake up in bed and have it gone and disappeared is countless. Sometimes, I'll push myself all the way underwater in the bath in the hopes of it vanishing. I've added multiple creams to that specific area more than any other place, merely just hoping for the mark to fade and erase. But it never did. Not once.