Torn » h.s./marcel

Chapter 29: Say Hello To The New Me

Chapter 29: Say Hello To The New Me

Marcel's POV

I felt like I was floating when I woke up the next morning. I couldn't have dreamed it, I couldn't have. Allie kissed me.

I smiled dreamily and stared up at the ceiling. My plan had gone perfectly, perhaps a little too perfectly. I didn't think Allie and I would be kissing by the end of the night. That was a pleasant add-in.

Were Allie and I dating now? I wasn't sure. I wanted it to be so, but how did I know that we were? Was I supposed to ask her? Should I wait and see what she says to me when we see each other next? Do I--

"Marcel!" my mother yelled, interrupting my nervous thoughts. "I know you stayed up late last night, but it's time for you to get up! Breakfast's ready!"

"Okay!" I shouted back. "Coming!"

I slid out of bed and waited for the chills to attack my bare skin. Goosebumps popped up all over my arms, but I barely noticed or cared. I was too busy thinking about Allie's lips on mine.

I put on a t-shirt and sweats. I headed downstairs. The delicious aroma of eggs and pancakes met me when I entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mum," I said cheerfully. I sat down at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Marcel," my mother replied without looking up. She was piling pancakes onto a large plate. "Someone's happy this morning. What did you and Allie do last night?"

"We went to prom," I said, daydreaming again.

"Well, duh, but what did you--OH MY GOSH!!"

I jumped at my mother's screaming and woke up. I found her staring at me in shock and near horror.

"What? What did I do?" I asked nervously.

"What the hell are... what did you.... WHY IS THERE INK ON YOUR SKIN?!"

I blanched. I glanced down at my arms. They were bare. My scars--tattoos--were extremely visible. My mother had not known about them, but now she did. I should've known I couldn't keep them a secret forever.

"I can explain," I said hastily, though I really didn't want to.

"Then do it," my mother snapped. "Explain to me why my perfect son has terrible ink markings all over his body."

"Okay, first of all, I'm not perfect," I said. "Second of all, they're tattoos, not ink markings. Third of all, they're not terrible. They all mean something to me."

My mother snorted in disbelief. "Tattoos are terrible! If any of those things mean something to you, write it in a diary, don't ruin your body permanently!"

"Mother, you're not listening to me," I said earnestly. "Just please hear me out."

My mother folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly for me to explain myself. My breath puffed out of my lips. This was going to take a while.

"I'm bullied in school," I mumbled. "Nobody understands me or likes me for me. It's awful. Some days were so bad, I considered... leaving. Not the running-away kind of leaving, but the I-want-to-leave-this-world kind of leaving. But I couldn't do that. To you, I mean. I knew how much it would hurt you. So I got tattoos instead, depicting all that I am. It took away the mental and emotional pain and replaced it with pain I could control. So that's why I got tattoos. But I don't call them tattoos. I call them scars. That's what they are to me."

My mother had a pained look on her face. "You're bullied in school?" she whispered. "Marcel, why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference," I said. "And it still won't. If the kids at school found out, they'd never leave me alone. Please don't tell anyone."