Shattered

Falling Apart

I ignored Stella and Marina in the halls. I can tell that Stella told Marina about what's happening because of the sympathetic looks they shoot my way when they make eye contact with me in the halls. My life was crumbling before my eyes: my moms dead, my dad's an abusive psycho, my grades are plummeting, and I can't talk to anyone about anything! People look at me different; ever since the word got around about my moms death, people treat me like a puppy that just lost a leg: people feel as if they can't talk or comfort me or I'll burst into tears. They feel bad for me. It's so awkward to talk to me because people feel as if they need to make some special effort when they talk to me, they just can't say hello? Sometimes someone will walk up to me in the hall and say "I'm so sorry" or something like that, but why? Probably so they can feel better for themselves, not me. People don't understand what I'm going through, and quite frankly, I don't either.

After lunch, I spotted Marina and Stella talking to one of the teachers in the school-Mrs. Chesterson-my favorite teacher. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I knew it was serious by the looks on Mrs. Chesterson's face. Suddenly she looked my way. Oh God! Marina and Stella, did you tell her about me and my dad? It has nothing to do with her! I pulled my sleeves down, making sure no bruises were showing. I waited patiently until they were finished talking to Mrs. Chesterson. "Marina! Stella!" I shouted furiously as I stomped over to them. They both gave me a guilty look. "What the hell were you doing? What were you talking about with Mrs. Chesterson?!" I fumed. "Uhh...," Marina began, "okay Chris, I'm not gonna lie to you, we told her about your dad," Marina confessed. "Ugh! Why must you always barge in on others people's problems? This is my burden, you guys!" I shouted, sending the same dirty look to the both of them. I felt sick. If my dad gets a call from the school "accusing" him of child abuse, he'll be outraged! He hit me three times just for getting home a few hours late, what will he do this time?! I cringed at the thought. I was scared, so so scared. I want to tell myself my dad wouldn't hurt me again, but how should I know?! He was sober last time! Marina noticed the war I was having with myself, she put her hand on my shoulder. "No," I said firmly, rejecting her comfort. "Chrissy please," Stella pleaded. "You think we did this because we want be the heros?" Marina began, "well you're wrong! We did this because you're our friend and we care about you! This problem isn't going to go away by itself Christina! I know you Chris, and I know you want someone to talk to....no...you need someone to talk to. I know you're hurting," she said calmly, pulling me into her embrace. As much as I didn't want to admit it, she was right. I sobbed onto her shoulder. I did need them, and I guess they needed me too.

When I arrived home I immediately vanished into my room, away from him. Despite the love Stella and Marina gives me unconditionally, I miss my dad, even though I'm terrified of him now. But I miss the smiles he'd give me when I arrived home, and his soothing voice telling me he loves me. I never realized how much I need that, because now he's not the only one falling apart...I am.
I looked in my mirror, I wasn't what I wanted to be; happy thoughts no longer rained through my brain, love and passion no longer pumped through my heart, joy and sunshine no longer glowed from my cheeks-in fact, I rarely even smile anymore. My reflection was no longer radiant. My eyes were sunken, my clothes were faded, my hair was twisted and mangled, and my skin was pale-this wasn't me-it was like staring at a ghost. I balled my fists and clenched them until I could feel the hot angry pump through my skin. Why? Why father?! Why did you have to do this to me? I hated my reflection because I resembled him. I clawed at my pale face until it burned red. Hot frustrated tears slowly trickled down my cheek. I ran my fingers through my hair and ripped at my scalp. I screamed with frustration and ran to my closet. I dug through my drawer crazily until I found a pair of scissors. I clenched my teeth and laughed insanely as the tears rained down. Pressing the blade of the scissors to my flesh, slowly cutting in. Stop! My thoughts raged. This will not solve anything, Christina! This is selfish! Hurting yourself will not make dad change and it will definitely not bring mom back! I pulled the blade away from my skin and wiped away the small amount of blood that trickled from a small cut I made. I chucked the scissors at the mirror and the glass shattered. As I stared at the broken glass on the floor, I realize that mirror is just like me; someone shattered it...and no ones there to help pick up the pieces.