My Name is Bitch

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She awakens on the tile floor. Covered in blood, she doesn’t see the word that has been etched into her stomach, only feeling the pain it makes with each move.

Howard is asleep at the kitchen table, Absolut clutched in his palm. Jane quickly takes a washcloth sitting in the sink and gently washes away all the blood and grime from the cut.

Only when she is finished does she see the word brutally marked into her skin. Tears spring to her eyes as she grips the sides of the sink, digging her nails into the bottom.

Bitch. The word scarred onto her stomach, bitch. No longer Jane, no longer girl. Just Bitch.

She quiets the sobs escaping her, as to not stir Howard. She climbs the stairs painfully, grabbing at the splintered railing for help.

Jane changes her t-shirt and throws the bloody one away, if you squint you can almost make out the word on the old shirt.

Jane walks to school, slower than usual. Her beat-up old car is in the shop; hopefully someone would think to fix it since Howard obviously isn’t.

Before going to the office, Jane makes her way to the bathroom. The mirror reflects a girl that doesn’t look as troubled as her story says she is. Her blonde hair, straight and beautiful, reaches to the middle of her back. Her bluish-green eyes reflect only the happy memories she has had, if the only few. Her figure is tall and lean, never having to worry about food or the lack of, for that matter. Jane brushes her bangs out of her face; grateful her dad didn’t etch the word there.

The secretary greets Jane by name, only because she comes in late so often. The secretary suspects a problem, but never reports it; instead she lets the girl slide by without marking her tardy.  As if a tardy would make her life more miserable.

Jane makes her way to English, her first class of the day, and one of the few classes she dreads.

“Jane. So nice of you to join us!” Yells Mrs. Carson from the back of the room.

If only Jane had the courage to life her t-shirt up for you, dear Mrs. Carson, then you might understand why the poor girl was absent.

She makes her way to her seat, a desk in the farthest corner of the room. Beside the one boy she can’t stand.

James.

James may have a last name, but the fact of the matter is, Jane doesn’t account for those. Why should everyone else have a last name when Jane is barely allowed to a first?

If not for his stunningly good looks and arrogant manner, Jane may have liked him.

Most days, James doesn’t take a second glance at her. Most days, Jane can’t help but stare at the unmarked, gorgeous face of his. Looking doesn’t mean you like him, right? Jane can admire his looks all she wants, but the fact of the matter is, is that she still hates him.

Jane tries to convince herself of that.

Mrs. Carson doesn’t care much for Jane. She always shows up late and doesn’t do her work as well as the other students; she doesn’t seem to care about the class. But what Mrs. Carson doesn’t notice is that school is only means of a distraction for Jane, not something she looks at for enjoyment. Simply and purely distraction.

The windows let a slight breeze in, cooling Jane down a touch. She tugs at the collar of her shirt, just now finding she is entirely too hot. She stops doodling in her notebook abruptly, finding herself dizzy and strangled for air.

The word “Bitch,” echoes through her mind, trailing the tail of her intruding thoughts. Jane sways, losing the energy to even attempt to clutch her desk.