Tuesday 17th, 2011
12:30 PM
Please. Please no. Not today. I didn’t expect it today.
I splash cold water on my face. My makeup drips, leaving a black trial as it falls into the sink. I wash my face again, trying to take off the makeup but to no avail. “This is useless,” I mumble.
“Here let me do it,” my other best friend, Lily, jumps from off of the counter. “Your face won’t get as irritated.”
She goes into a stall and grabs some toilet paper. She puts some water on it and walks over to me. “Now close your eyes.” She whispered softly as she grabbed my chin.
My lips are quavering and I’m trying not to let the tears fall. Nobody has seen me cry in over six years. People even doubted I could cry. But I could. I cried every once in a while. All of those memories and everything that happened, it just breaks you. You have to appear strong to the world when on the inside your broken.
Lily starts cleaning up my makeup softly. She’s not rubbing hard, like I would have done. After a couple of minutes I hear her whisper. “Done.”
I open my eyes. My black eyeliner is no longer surrounding my eyes and, I must admit, it makes me look more normal. I smile a little. “Can you do my hair?”
Lily closes her eyes and sighs. Her blue eye shadow shines with the light of the restroom. She opens her eyes and looks at me with her hazel ones. Finally, she nods.
I close my eyes and leap on the counter. Lily starts tugging and pulling at my hair. “Do you have a hair tie?” I don’t have one. I have rubber bands. I have eight of them, lining up my right arm. But I don’t use them to tie my hair up. I use them for pain. They’re an alternative, for when something happens and I don’t want to cut. The one highest up hurts the most.
I would offer her one. I really would, but I can’t. Underneath those rubber bands I have scars. Some new, some old. Scars cover almost all of both of my arms. At that thought, I tighten my grip on my backpack. I didn’t want people to see the blade and bandages I bought to school (just in case I ever wanted to cut in school).
“No.” I finally respond. She sighs and I can tell she’s irritated. “It’s alright. I think I have one…” I hear her stuff rattle and think about how hard it must be to look through the chaos that is Lily’s purse with one hand. “Aha!” She secures the hair tie. “Now, stay like that.” I feel a sharp prick on my head and I already now she’s clipping my fringe up. “Perfect. Open your eyes now.”
I open them. I’m about to turn when Lily yells out. “Wait! Your makeup! Let me do it!” I roll my eyes. “Lily, it just took me a good hour to get my makeup off and now you want me to put some on?” She pouts. “But it’s a different kind of makeup.” I sigh, giving in. She goes and applies a minimum amount of eyeliner—it’s way less than what I would use—and then some clear lip gloss. “Ewe,” I say, smacking my lips together, “how can you have this yucky sticky stuff on you?”
Lily rolls her eyes and takes off her baby blue sweater, leaving her in only a white tank top. “Here,” she hands it to me, “it’ll finish the look.” I nod, taking it. “Uh, do you want my sweater…?” She nods and I jump off of the counter. I unzip my sweater. Just as I’m about to take it off, I stop. Lily can’t see my cuts, my scars. She can’t see it. “Uh, Lily, can you bring me some water. I’m thirsty.” She frowns. “What am I? Your maid?”
I try to pout. “Pleeeaaase!”
She sighs and mumbles something under her breath as she walks out of the bathroom.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Hearts and Bloody Wrists
Teen Fiction"There's a story behind every person. There's a reason why they're the way they are. They aren't just like that because they want to. Something in the past created them, and sometimes it's impossible to fix them." Sometimes, you just have to try to...
