Moving On

Chapter 4

The time tick-tocked by slower and slower, almost seeming not to being moving at all. I really wasn’t feeling up to going to the concert tonight but I knew I couldn’t ditch Belle. I was just so tired; I wanted to sleep for hours on end. I decided that moping wouldn’t fix the situation, though, and I started to ready myself and looking at my reflection in the mirror.

I hate looking in the mirror; all I ever see is the reflection of a broken girl who can’t be brought back to her happy self again. I wish I could be that girl again, smiling and happy all the time; kind of like Belle I guess. My reflection scares me, my cheeks are hollow, my arms seem as skinny as toothpicks, and my once blue eyes are a dull grey with dark bags clinging to them.

I'm a wreck and that’s all I could think until I saw the ugly scar etched into my cheek. I stood there, wondering how anyone could look past such an ugly thing. How could someone love me when that thing was plastered across my cheek? I punched the mirror disgusted. Yanking a bottle of face make up and holding back tears forming in the corners of my eyes I furiously smudged the liquid over my face, trying my best to cover the scar up, but it was no use. It would take a thousand pounds of makeup to hide that bitch.

I continued putting on mascara and eve some liner, making sure that my lashes were plump and noticeable and that my eyes would look brighter. Even so I still cringed looking at my make up job. I left the mirror after taking one last flinching look. On to the miraculous time where I get to actually try to look nice for once.

Before I picked my clothing I gave my hair a beachy wave look, though I made sure not to overdo it. I liked how it looked, though I guess it could have been a lot better if I actually wanted to get dressed up for this concert. I turned toward the closet, dragging my feet with my mind racing to choose what to wear. I never really was one for making the best outfits and my choices always seem bland to me. However, people always tell me that I have a ray of “Hipster” beaming from me, though I'm not sure why.

I decided to add a plain black bracelet with three black buttons going down the middle of my chest, ripped high wasted shorts and a pair of vans that were the brightest white. I hate getting my shoes dirty and I knew later tonight I would regret wearing them and will want to throw them out a window.

I got to thinking that maybe I looked alright, so I grabbed my phone and sent a quick snap-chat to Belle.

“Look any good?” I waited a few minutes 'til I got a strange reply from Belle.

“Oh hot damn, boys gonna be all over that shit tonight” I rolled my eyes at this. She is just too weird.

“Right, and the Queen is Black.” I laughed, thinking I was being funny but it really sounded a lot funnier in my head.

“Bitch, hurry up I’m going to chop your head off if you don’t get here!” My eyes widened at the text.

“Well that escalated quickly.” I sent it with a little winky face before walking out the door.

I walked the six blocks to Belle’s, once again getting stares from of only disgust and constant judgments from everyone I passed. I just knew they were looking at me cheek, but on occasion there was the happy couple that passed by that just made me sick and also a bit dizzy, to be honest. One couple in particular was walking together and a gentleman was blowing on her hand to keep her warm and she just kept giggling.

It hurt seeing people happy like that; it just reminds me of another thing I no longer had anymore. Happiness. I arrived at Belle’s and before I could think any more she practically tackled me to the floor with a wild look in her eyes

“You took forever! I thought I was going to die!” I rolled my eyes at her, knowing how over dramatic she could be. Scratch that, she’s always over dramatic. But she also always looks adorable in everything she wore. She truly is a lovely girl, and she was wearing a short sleeved dress that was navy blue with five medium sized buttons on each side. She had cute little white slip on shoes and her hair was, of course, perfect. She always complains about it but suprisingly she hasn’t said a thing about it yet.