The Glimmer of a Blade

Chapter 4

i woke up the same as most nights; red puffy eyes from crying. i went for a long shower and eyed the scars all over my body. i read "FAT" on my chest below my breasts, the same thing was written just above my belly button. my legs had horizontal cuts all over my legs and wrists. the scars were all pinkish and the skin felt rough at my touch.

nobody is going to love me, not like this.

"dont think like that" sammy said as she appeared in my shower.

"can i not have privacy with my own thoughts? in the shower?"

"no. not for long..."

"what do you mean?" i asked, puzzled.

"teresa! get out of the shower! im going to see some friends and i need a shower. get out." i heard jeremys friend call.

"okay, ill be out in a minute," i called back, "how did you know about that, sammy?"

"intuition," she replied, shrugging.

after giving myself a quick wash i stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and walked into my room.

sammy picked out my clothes for the day; a blue singlet, and short shorts, the same that sammy was wearing. she pulled off the outfit better than i did, her long blonde hair and her perfect skinny body made it just that much better. i had fat rolls comming from left, right and centre... diagonal, up, down and every direction in between. sammy was the perfect image that i wanted to be. her blonde hair reached around her butt, with long curvy waves. her eyes were incredibly green, which i had always loved.

i envied my own imaginary friend, and i felt that it was completely silly.

i shook all the sad thoughts from my mind and like a normal day i went to school. i sat in the usual seat in the back of the class and set up my things as always. the class began as miss Cook slammed her books on the desk again. i felt very distant throughout most of the class, lost in my thoughts.

"get a job. it will get you money, money can help. maybe you can get some weight loss pills, or an exercise machine," i thought to myself as i drew on my new canvas with black charcoals, "art supplies. get art supplies, you can be like picasso, van gogh, anyone,"

"whats that?" i heard a voice ask.

i looked around the room to see the face where the voice emitted from.

"huh?" i replied, confused.

"what happened to your arm?" the boy asked.

i looked at my arm to realise that i had completely forgotten about the cuts and scars on my wrists.

"oh, thats nothing."

"teresa, thats not nothing. are you okay?"

"yeah, im fine. and how do you know my name?"

"you sit in the same place, every day. miss cook always favours your works, and ill have to admit, they are good," the guy said pointing at the drawing i was almost finished with, "you dont talk much, but youve been here long enough for me to know who you are."

i stared at him, slightly dumb-founded. how could he know so much about me, yet i dont even know his name?

who was this guy? looking at him i realised he had the most amazing brown eyes i had ever seen.

"hello. earth to teresa, earth continiues spinning. report back"

"sorry. your name is....?" i asked, prompting him.

"Christopher. ive been here for a year and you dont even know my name. silly, silly."

"oh, sorry," i replied, not concentrating on what he said. my focus was on his amazing eyes. he turned away, smiling and continiued drawing. that smile. its contagious.

i found myself smiling, with a slight blush.

the rest of the class went by as a big blur. i had been thinking about christopher all lesson. how had i not noticed him before? he looked so perfect. his hair was neatly trimmed, his eyes were so caring, he had the look of a man with careful hands; incapable of hurt.

the bell rang, dragging me from my thoughts, kicking and screaming.

christopher had already made his way out of the class as i collected my things, packed up quickly and headed for the door.

as soon as i stepped out of the room i couldnt see a soul; the hall was empty.

disapointed, i continiued walking down the hall when i felt a hand grab my wrist and pull me aside.

i looked up and saw those perfect eyes again.

"you shouldnt do this, teresa. it wont end well," i heard his calm, soothing voice say as he held up my left arm.

"but-"

"-no 'but's. dont."

"ill try,"

"you wont try, youll do."

"okay," i gave up, beaten.

"good. if you need to talk, call me," he shoved a peice of paper in my hand, hugged me, then ran off down the hall.