SCARS

2

About a month went by with him constantly catching glimpses at my scars. Old ones when I felt confident enough to wear short sleeves. And new ones when he was persistent. He would often pull me into corners, urging me to talk to someone. Or asking me to show him so he can check if I had any new ones. He never did anything if there were fresh cuts on my arms, he'd just shoot me a look and hug me. His pained eyes burnt into my soul every time I took out the razorblade. Sometimes, at school, I'd find him and talk to him. It wasn't something I could talk to my friends about, they didn't understand. I don't think Beck understands either, but he listens and that's all I can ask from him. None of my friends even noticed when I had new scars, or maybe they did and they just didn't care. 

Finally one Friday evening, a couple of friends and I went to a party. Edie (one of the friends who knew about my mental condition)  had come to my house before we left so we could get ready together. 

"Okay." She said, laying out three outfits on my bed. "So, we've got a classic little black dress that I am willing to let you borrow since you don't have one for some reason, but I've spruced it up just a little with some red heels." 

"No." I'd said almost immediately. 

"Why not?" She whined, Edie was always my fashion advisor. Don't get me wrong, I liked to pay attention to what I wore, but Edie lived for her clothes. 

"Edie, come on. That outfit is way too sexy for a Junior party. Even if I wanted to wear it, my mother would never let me out of the house looking like that." 

"Fine." She huffed, throwing the dress and heels off the bed. "Okay, then how about this?" She said, holding up a flowery crop-top and skater skirt, along with a pair of wedged Converse that I'd never seen before in  my life. 

I gasped. "Edith Pemberley!" I used her full name for dramatic effect. "Are you loaning me a pair of your beloved shoes for this party?!" I clutched my chest, holding myself up on my desk chair.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up. Only if you like the outfit." 

"It's nice, I guess." I said. "Maybe a little too 'Skater Girl' for my taste though." 

She smiled. "Oh thank god." She said. "Knox told me to suggest this to you but I was not about to let you go to a party wearing Converse. I don't care if they are heels or not." 

Knox is my other good friend who I told about my mental health. He's gay and loves fashion almost as much as Edie does so he's always trying to be her assistant advisor. He doesn't know about my cutting though, and Edie does. 

We finally settled on a simple yellow sundress and a pair of chunky black heels that I wore to my cousin's wedding a few years ago. I'd never been able to pair them with an outfit since. After I went to change into my new outfit she looked me over a couple of times, and sighed, satisfied with her work. I tried to convince her to let me wear a cardigan in case I got cold but she wouldn't let me. She said it would ruin the look. I didn't tell her the real reason I wanted a sweater was to cover my scars, but I think she understood. Edie always told me I needed to embrace who I am, scars and all. I was sure that her putting me in a revealing outfit was her way of pushing me into her philosophy whether I wanted to or not.