Filling Scars With Love

Regrets and thoughts.

Why would he even care about me? About us? Why did he have to remind me that I was adopted? I already knew I was. And I hate it. Why didn't mom take me with her? I'd rather be up there, watching these stupid people down here suffering. I don't think I would suffer up there. I'm living in hell. Everyone surrounding me is a devil, each one, different devils, but same devilish hearts. Why do they want to ruin my freaking life? Why do I even promise some shit I can't even keep?

I was lost in my thoughts, and the only thing that woke me up was the familiar ringtone I've put on for Mike.

"He must know" I half whispered. I don't care! 

"You really don’t?" Who said that? It wasn't me. But the street was almost deserted. Then who? Who am I talking to? Do I really care? Why do I have the caring sense. Why do I feel emotions? I'm not answering to you Mike stop calling! Stop yelling in your mind Scarlett.

“UGH GODDAMN!” I managed to breathe and yell at the same time.

 Some people turned to look at me. Good job Scarlett, you just became a licensed freak. I heard my favorite song coming from the nearest pub -Heart Cry- playing. It warmed up my heart. But still there was emptiness. I checked my phone again. 4 missed calls from Mike. No Michael I'm not answering! Ah, so we're back to Michael again? Do I really love him?

"Why on earth are you so dumb Scarlett?" C'mon stop talking to me, stop haunting my mind, stop it! It's not fair though. Whose is this voice? Is it mine? I can't even hear the sound, I just feel it, it's warm, full of confidence, sweet and caring. For sure it's not mine. Then whose is it? I feel like crying. I should take my mind off this bullshit. It's useless thinking about this. I've done so many mistakes. 

I entered in the nearest pub, where my favorite song played. The song playing right now was Mockingbird by Eminem. I felt the tears inside. It just hurt as fuck. I get it why people go to night pubs. It might seem that those people go there to drink and become high as heck but no. They come here to take their mind off their problems, and they drink, to forget everything just for the night before they go back to their real life. They're considered as problematic teens. Am i really like them? Problematic? Nope, I'm worse. I'm worthless. I sat on a chair and asked for a drink. Well things are escalating pretty quickly. I got my drink and watched as tons of teens were dancing to a rock song. Wonder what song it was.

“It's Animal by The Cab” I heard a voice next to me. It was the waiter.

“Thanks” I replied taking a sip of my drink. “But how did you kn-“

“I'm used to these kind of people in here honey!”

“I'm nothing like them.” I whispered.

“I bet you are, just a different problem.”

His words made me reflect. What if he was damn right? Why do I hate this world so much?

“So, why are you here? Always, if you're okay with telling me... “ He said while washing some glasses.

“I'm adopted.” I said staring at him.

“Oh” He said. So that's all. Just "oh".

“Yeah, I'm used to this kind of reaction.”

“Do they hurt you? Your adoptive parents?”

“Not my mom...” I breathed hard. “My adoptive mom is kind with me but my adoptive dad...he's a total jerk. He goes to stripping clubs every night and watches those whores performing. That bastard doesn't even care about his goddamn wife, and let's not talk about me.” I said. Strangely I sounded way too calm. They way those words were coming out of my mouth.