forged smiles, no more

v - one moment

sage

sage was grateful for the quiet of jason's cabin, but it also left her with time to ponder what jason had done. people didn't do nice things for her, they just didn't. at least not without a reason that would benefit themselves. but no matter how sage looked at it, she couldn't see how jason could get anything out of this. maybe he was being nice. maybe sage could believe that, if it weren't for those loud, anxiety-ridden nights.

yeah, jason wasn't using her, and sage wasn't remembering. remembering stepdads meeting, yelling, leaving. jason wasn't using her, and sage wasn't spiraling. spiraling deeper into her thoughts, the overlapping voices too similar to the screaming she heard from her mom on drunk nights, most nights. the voices that were deafening, but paled in comparison to the sheer force of those words in her head, the words carved on her arms, the words that bled bright red to remind sage of everything she wasn't. not pretty, not smart, not kind. not loved, and irredeemable.

the routine was simple. don't die. teachers will notice a student missing. don't die. mom doesn't want to clean the blood. but still hurt. hurt so you never forget what you are. worthless. worthless. worthless. all you are, all you ever will be. long sleeves were mandatory. can't let them see your scars.

the consequences were severe. if you didn't follow the routine, you didn't eat. sage could still feel the cramps of her empty stomach even now. that night's food money went towards the alcohol. that night's alcohol went towards the screaming, the punching, the silent tears. silent tears only, if mom hears, you'll be beat. throwing up from the fumes of mom's drinks, but not having anything in her to throw up. never complaining. never crying. never feeling anything but pain. sage was like a bobblehead doll in a window, always smiling, waving, nodding. facing the front so you don't see the cracks on the back from years of getting dropped.

the worst part was, even now, sage didn't know how to blame her mother. Growing up, she was all sage had. sage had no memory of a time when her mom acted like other parents and really seemed to love her, but she always had to believe that it was there, underneath layers of anger and alcohol. but if sage can't blame her mother, then who is the reason behind her hurt?

easy.

herself.

she's the problem, always has been, always will be. there was no one to confide in, no one to help her. until she met kaitlynn brookes in seventh grade. sage remembered that day as one of her only good memories.

it was kaitlynn's first day, and she didn't know that the bathroom at the top of the stairwell was an unused staff bathroom. well, unused by the staff. sage spent a lot of time in there, mostly for crying, but every once in a while she would talk with this boy, owen. he occasionally showed up, sitting on the grimy tiled floor, usually with a cigarette. sage hated the smell, it reminded her of one of her stepdads, but owen understood her. his home life was almost worse than hers, and he was the only person who really knew why she always looked scared even it was time to leave school, especially on weekends. days with owen were kind of nice, a respite from her typical days of crying alone in an abandoned bathroom stall. but one day, owen disappeared. sage was pretty sure he was dead.

that might've been her too, if it weren't for kaitlynn, who wandered into the almost-empty bathroom on accident and heard sage sobbing.

"hello?" kaitlynn had knocked on sage's stall door. "are you okay? do you want me to get a teacher?"

"no!" sage had yelled before she could stop herself.