❝Goddammit! I hate you! I hate you and your dumb voice! and your stupid muscles and your awfully attractive face!❞
❝You think I'm attractive?❞
❝Fuck no!❞
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Dangerous, wild and rebellious.
Calm, cool and collected.
Darya just wan...
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Ethan fucking Blackwell is after my life.
Not only did he taunt me by wearing matching halloween costumes, but he was also being unnecessarily mean by glaring at all the guys that wanted to dance with me.
I'm sick and completely tired of his behavioral changes. He asks to be friends one day and act up another day. If that's how being friends with him is, count me out.
"Down to earth Darya," my mom snaps her fingers in front of my face and I blink, shaking my head. "what's wrong? You've been staring straight at the luggage for minutes."
I shiver, folding more clothes into the luggage. "Nothing. I'm fine mom."
She nods, staying silent for a few minutes, assisting me with my luggage, giving me few glances with thin lips.
"What?" I snap, getting uncomfortable with her constant stares.
"Are you worried about..." she trails off, eyes darting briefly to my upper thighs while I shift on my feet.
I understood what she's asking without her even asking and I curse under my breath.
"I'll try to find something to wear to cover it up, you don't have to worry about that." I spit out, getting defensive of my past actions.
My mother's face look shocked at my response, my reply taking her aback. "I'm not... Listen I'm not judging you. I'm just worried—"
"You don't have to worry about that, I can—"
"I'm talking. Listen." She snaps, cutting me with a glare. "You don't have to be ashamed of your scars. These," She lifts my shorts, exposing one of the things I regret doing. "seeing this, and seeing you means so much more than you think. It means you overcame the past and you're standing strong. Your scars doesn't define you. None of these define you. You're a strong confident woman, and I'm so fucking proud of you. Only a fool would think otherwise."
I blink, opening and closing my mouth, words escaping me. I try, oh I try, to blink away the tears but a few still run down my cheeks.
"Aww." my mom's face softens as she pulls me into a hug that has me burning my face into her shoulders as my body shakes with all the withheld tears finally getting a release.
"But....but, what if they see me differently than I am because of my scars?"
"Then they were never your friends to begin with." she whispers into my hair and I nod.
I know my friends won't act or change towards me because of the scars but a little, a teeny tiny bit of me says otherwise.
After pulling away from each other, my mom and i discuss about different things as we both take our time in arranging my small luggage.
While my phone continues to ping with different notifications, I rush around my room, getting everything ready for the field trip as my mom walks into the room again.
