scars of love

One

Before any of this started, before I met him, I was an average sixteen year old girl. I didn't have friends, I didn't have a social life at all but, I didn't want one. I was so eaten up with negativity, I couldn't see how anyone could like me.
I went to a very expensive girls school my father insisted on sending me to, I did my work, came home and stayed inside my bedroom, sitting on my balcony, my brain either dead, filled with endless nothing and blank spaces, or it was screaming, sirens going off, so much noise. Somedays it felt like my head was going to explode. Somedays I felt like a lifeless body, trailing around, a ghost. Thats what the girls at school called me. "Ghost girl". I usually sat dead still, staring into space. I could hear them whispering how creepy I am. I didn't care, I had no energy to care.

Most nights I couldn't sleep. I had insomnia, if I shut my eyes, they burned. My mind had so much noise, so much anger. I wanted to scream, cry and run away. But I held it all inside and I put on a brave face.
I hardly ate, even when Maria, our housekeeper watched me with a beady eye. I was always a petit girl, but then I was very pale, very skinny, unhealthy. She tried telling my father, but as usual, he didn't pay much attention. He had a one track mind, he focused on his business. He went away for months at a time, but I hardly noticed. It was illegal, even though Maria was with me everyday, but I didn't care. I don't think he cared either. He was never an affectionate father, we hardly spoke. He hated emotion and empathy, exaggeration, passion. He was always very stern, very serious. He was never really involved in my life. He hired Russian nannies, always very pretty and robust. I went through a lot of them. I know for a fact he slept with all of them. Then, when I was fourteen, his job became very 'demanding' and he went away often. He ditched the nannies and hired Maria, a friendly south american woman to live here and look after me.

I didn't have friends. Most the girls I was in school with were all the same. Giggly, rude, gossipy and shallow. I didn't mind that much either. In lessons I did everything I was supposed to, worked hard, I was top in almost every class. During break times I usually sat by myself, reading or just sitting under a tree, my mind buzzing, the sirens going off. School was a distraction, the only distraction I had.
Everything in my life was plain, the same thing everyday. I existed, I breathed in and out, but I did not live life.

I was walking home one afternoon after school, staring down at the cracks in the pavement. My mind was rushing, a big mess as usual. I was miles away, and consequently, I crashed into someone. I stepped back, brushing my hair out my eyes, looking up.
"S-sorry" I stuttered. Then, my eyes met his. This sounds the most cliche incident to ever happen, but it did, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something. A spark ignited inside of me.
He had wonderful dark brown eyes, ernest, warm and kind.
He smiled, his hands in his pockets. He had a mess of shoulder length dark brown curls and pale skin. He was wearing black skinny jeans, loose fitted on his legs, and a grey hoodie with navy blue sleeves. He had earphones in his ears, and he pulled them out, wrapping them around his neck, still looking me in the eyes. I didn't usually make eye contact with people, but in this moment, I couldn't take my eyes off his.
"Don't worry about it. Are you okay?" He said, his eyes still firmly locked on mine. I nodded, my cheeks flooding pink.
"All good, thanks" I said softly. He smiled.
"I'm Calum" he said, holding out his hand. I took it, smiling. And for the first time in years, it wasn't forced.
"Ingrid" I said.
"It's good to meet you" he said.
"You too"
He glanced in the distance.
"Are you walking home?"
"Yes, but I don't have a tight schedule" I said, smiling. He grinned.
"Great. Could I possible walk you home, Ingrid? Without sounding too forward, of course" he winked. I laughed. I really laughed. I listened to myself as the sound erupted from my lips. I was stunned. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed.
"Of course. Though, as long as you promise me you are not an axe murderer, of course" I joked. He laughed. I was making jokes now. What had he done to me? My heart was racing.
"I cant guarantee anything, Ingrid"
I liked how he kept saying my name in almost every sentence, I liked how my name sounded on his lips. I liked how he made me feel, I liked how he made me smile and laugh. I liked how he made me feel happy.
But most of all, I liked him.