The Scars Within [boyxboy]

The Scars Within {19}

                His face paled but he forced himself to look into my eyes. Well, whatever was left of my bad eyes. I knew it was ugly. I had thrown up when I had seen it for the first time after the accident, and my dad had too.

                All that was left was the white of my eye, terribly bloodshot. A crisscross of scars surrounded my eye. The corner of my eye had been cut open, like a Chelsea Smile on my eye. It was a gruesome sight, but he was managing to keep looking.

                To my surprise, Lionel pulled my bandana off. He kissed me gently. “How? How can you look?” I whispered.

                “You kept looking at my fingers. You let me touch you with my fingers. We’re scarred, EJ, but our scars don’t make us ugly,” he said quietly.

                I gently brushed my fingers across the scars on his bad hand. “The ones on the inside are ugly. The scars within,” I said and he nodded. “Yea. Those are the painful, ugly ones,” he agreed.

                He kissed me deeply and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled away and pulled me into his lap, turning his attention back to the movie, my bandana still in his hand. I reached for it and he held it away from me. “You can have it back when you leave,” he said and kissed me.

                He glanced at me. “EJ…if you tell me exactly what happened that day, I’ll tell you exactly what happened the day I got hurt,” he said softly. I bit my lip and sighed, nodding.

                I waited outside impatiently. Where was my dad? Did he forget to pick me up? No, of course he wouldn’t. He never forgot to pick me up.

                I relaxed when I saw the car pull into the parking lot. I grabbed my bag and got in the car. “Put your seatbelt on,” dad said, slurring a little. That was weird. I hoped he was okay.

                I put my seatbelt on and he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Dad what are we doing for dinner? I’m so hungry!” I whined. My lunch was way too early in the day. It was around the time I would eat breakfast on a weekend. My school was absolutely crazy if they actually thought that 9.30 was lunch time.

                “Don’t know. Your mom is making shit,” he said and I stared at him in shock. My dad never swore, especially in front of me. Only if he got hurt and it slipped out.

                “Dad, are you okay?” I asked nervously as the car swerved a little. “I’m fine Johnny,” he said and pat my head. “Don’t you ever drink, Johnny. You hear me?” he asked after a moment of awkward silence. I looked up at him in confusion and nodded.

                The car began to swerve again and I grabbed the door handle in fear. “Dad pull over! You’re not okay!” I cried in terror as cars honked at him. He glanced at me and then went back to looking at the rode. “I said I was fine Johnny boy,” he said and laughed.

                The car swerved even more and I screamed as I saw an oncoming car swerve to try to get away from us. The car collided and the windshield shattered, mostly on my side. I shrieked in agony as I felt it cut me. The pain was great that I found myself blacking out.

                “Johnny? Oh god Johnny please wake up!”

                “M-Mom?” I whispered and cracked my eyes open. She was bent over me, sobbing. “Oh Johnny!” she sobbed, covering her mouth and crying harder. I reached up and felt my face. I could only see her out of one eye.

                “Mom I can’t see out of my eye!” I cried in terror.

                A doctor stepped forward and sighed sadly. “Johnny, I’m so sorry. The way the windshield shattered…son, you’re blinded in that eye. Permanently,” he said, giving me truly sympathetic look.

                “I want to see my face,” I whispered, not even caring where my dad was. Mom looked at the doctor and he shrugged helplessly and handed me a hand mirror. I bit my lip and grabbed my mom’s hand before turning and looking at my face in the mirror. The very sight of my own face had me emptying my stomach, screaming and sobbing.

                I bit my trembling lip, unable to continue. “What about your dad?” Lionel asked. “He was okay. He just hurt his leg a little, and cut his arm and cheek,” I mumbled with a slight shrug. I glanced at him. “Your turn,” I said and he smirked. But it was a shaky smirk. He wet his lips and told me his story.

                                                                                ***Lionel’s POV***

                I entered the garage and went over to my dad. He was working with the power tools, making something for my grandpa.

                “Dad?” I asked. He looked down at me and smiled. He ruffled my hair. “What’s up Lionel?” he asked curiously. “Can I help?” I asked eagerly.

                He sighed and shook his head. “No, Lionel. I’m working with the power saw, and I don’t want you over here. You could get hurt,” he said as he carefully set up a piece of wood.

                I pouted. “No fair, dad! I want to help!” I whined. He gave me a stern look now. “Lionel, please go inside. This is dangerous and I don’t want you over here,” he said.

                “But dad!” I whined. “No buts, mister. You go inside now. You can help me when you’re older and trained with the tools, okay?” he said and gave me a little shove. I crossed my arms as he turned his attention back to the power saw, turning it on and beginning to bring it down the wood.

                I walked over and placed my hands on table, trying to pull myself up so that I could see. Gosh, I hated being so short! It sucked big time. I couldn’t even see over my dad’s worktable.

                I suddenly felt a pain so intense that I barely even registered it at first. But then it settled and I pulled my hands away and began to shriek as my hand bleed furiously. I heard something hit the ground and didn’t even want to look.

                My dad began to scream. He turned the saw off and knelt down. I watched him, feeling like I wasn’t even in my body anymore as I continued to shriek in pure agony. He was picking up my fingers. Yes, my dad was actually picking up my fingers.

                Dad grabbed me, picking me up and carrying me to the car as our neighbors rushed outside, asking what was wrong.

                “There was an accident! I need to get him to the hospital!” dad screamed to them and got in the car. He quickly pulled out of the driveway and drove me to the hospital as I began to blackout, screaming and sobbing.

                “I’m so sorry Lionel!” dad sobbed as picked me up out of the car at the hospital. Several hours later, after my fingers had been sewn back on, my mom entered my hospital room as my dad cried silently in the corner.

                “Lionel! What the hell did you do to my son?!” mom shrieked at dad before rushing over and pulling me into her arms as I began to sob again. “It hurts so bad mom!” I whimpered. She glared at my father as he began to cry harder.

                “And that’s about it,” I said with a shrug. EJ dropped his head, staring down at his hands. I pulled him close to me and kissed him gently, a smirk on my face to disguise my loving smile. I had never felt this way about anyone before, and I barely even knew EJ. I kissed him again and we sat in comfortable silence.