I way over thinked this kiss. That scared me. I hadn't over-thought a kiss since my second. Nonetheless, it was a great kiss, I never wanted it to end. I knew that once it did, I'd probably never speak to him again. He'd think we were an item, want me to share my feelings, all that shit.
I was only looking for a hookup, a make-out in the least, for a reason. During my horrible age twelve of nothingness, I had been going through personality changes as well. I went gothic-emo for a good year and a half. I the best year and a half of my life, since I was always a loner at heart, I was comfortable alone. But I still had friends and I could talk to them about loads of things, but not the things that counted.
I was an only child and the apple of my mother's eye when I was little. But when I went through these changes, she almost killed me on multiple occasions. She literally put her hands on my throat. She thought of it as a joke, and laughed it off. But it gave me multiple feelings of hatred for her, ones that never completely disappeared.
When I was complete in the Gothic-Emo era of my life, I had transformed myself into a thin, dark, slut. The thinness came from a month into the Gothic-Emo transformation, I had also become an anorexic but I didn't care, I was thin and that was all that mattered, right? I stopped caring what my mother thought of me. I was proud of myself.
That was only part of the baggage I carried with me every single day. The worst part was, none of my friends seemed to even notice my thinning during the black age. In the fourth grade, a popular girl went anorexic for five minutes and everyone was giving her support within the first two minutes. I always cried when I thought of that, so I didn't think of it often.
Anyway, enough about boring old me, the thing I always say when I get too pissed at my own life. I had really bad self-esteem.
Breathe. You are a Great Person. All that Crap.
I pulled away and looked him in the eyes. His hair was covering his eyes, and he looked really mellow. I had to stop. I didn't want to lose him as a friend, but I'd never been in a REAL relationship and he deserved better, I deserved someone worse than his dark angelic self.
"Sooo...." I started, uncomfortable as I turned my car back on and started to drive to my house. Five blocks to go.
"What's the matter..." he reached for my right hand. I gasped. That's when I saw them.
All along his arms were long scars, which looked a lot like something I looked at every day.
"What?" he said as I reached for his arm. He started to pull back, but I looked him in the eyes and he stopped. He bit his lower lip, expectantly.
"Are those..." I said, not wanting to finish.
"Yes, they are cuts from scissors," he said, pulling his arm back roughly. He rushed his sleeve back down his arm and seemed to shiver a bit once it fully covered his arm again. I pulled up my sleeve of my cropped jacket. It was only cropped in the way that it didn't cover my torso, just my boobs. I always had SOMETHING covering my arms. Always. And if I didn't for some odd reason of the forces of the universe, I had fingerless elbow length wool like gloves in every color. I even kept an extra pair in the middle console. Black.
He coughed uncontrollably, as if he were choking. I looked down, keeping my eyes focused on my lap.
"You shouldn't be ashamed," I whispered sadly, "You just need to look forward."
"No," he said firmly. Nothing else.
I pulled into my driveway and parked Mercy in the Garage.
