I dash to my room with my arms wrapped around my sides; dried tears circling my eyes. I'm the first person to make it back to the rooms.
Everything feels heavy as I lean against the door to my room.
My mind starts to scramble. I pout in frustration and rest my forehead on the door leading to my room, tears streaming down my cold face.
"Amber.." I hear a compassionate voice behind me.
My heart skips an entire beat. Ethan is behind me. Close to me.
I listen off into the distance. More teens are headed this way. More teens and counselors are going to see me like this.
I sniffle and squeeze my eyes shut. I want to move. I just need a few more steps..then I'd be in my room.
But my body doesn't allow me to move. It wants to be close to Ethan.
The sound of his footsteps increase.
Go away, Ethan.. I want to say, but I can't.
His warm breath grows even warmer, until I practically feel his silver lip ring on the back of my neck.
I clench my jaw, then turn around in a sharp, swift motion..
Suddenly, I'm facing him. I'm facing Ethan Quinn.
My mind starts to scream. I want to punch him in the face. I want to kiss him. I want him to feel what I'm feeling; what he's made me feel..
"Amber..are you with me right now?" His soothing, cracked voice echoes in my eardrums. Is that his new way of asking if I'm okay?
Teens pass by us, but none of them seem to notice. None of them seem to care.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then my mind seems to shift. This boy is not mine. I slowly exhale and take a look into his deep, green eyes.
I can't be mad at Ethan. We were never together. We met in a damn looney bin.
I was never his girlfriend.
"Hey, Ethan...sorry, I-" My voice stutters as I fail to make out words.
Suddenly, the worst vibe comes across me. Her drugged out, lukewarm eyes stare into mine. Her small lips form a smirk.
Emily.
As sweat begins to drip down the back of my neck, I glance behind me and notice how close I am to my room. To being away from Ethan. From Emily. From everyone. From everything.
"I, I'm going to go to my room now."
"Amber, wait. Can I please just sa-"
I twist the doorknob to my room and let myself in. I shut the door with my back, covering my sad, awful face with my hands.
I let out several silent sobs as I curl up in a depressing ball.
"See Collins.."
I glance up as I hear the lifeless voice, and my eyes meet Robin's.
"...Boys are dangerous."
YOU ARE READING
Battle Scars
Teen FictionAmber Collins is a typical depressed teenager. She despises her body, her school, her past and her peers. As this fourteen year old gets put-down on a daily basis, she copes with her depression by isolating, limiting calories, and self harming. One...
