Broken

[13]

QUINN
~
"Just tell me what they did and maybe I can do something to-"

~

His voice was cut off as I ended the call and gently placed the phone down by the sink.

I leaned my arms against it, holding my body up as I dropped my head and forced the heavy pain in my heart to recede.

I was confused. Why was I still on speaking terms with him? I promised that I wouldn't for reasons and yet it was pointless.

There was just something about him that makes me crave our conversations -even if it were only over the phone- as cliché as that sounds. It's just this something that draws me to him. It's not his looks (although I do admit he's quite attractive), but something, whatever it may be, makes me want to open up.

And I don't like it.

Lifting my head, I stared at myself through the mirror. My brown hair a mess, my eyes lifeless, and my cracked lips habitually pulled into a frown.

Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess.

I close my eyes, tilting my head back, and slowly breathe out; trying to calm down. With my eyes still shut, I turn back to face my reflection and after a couple long seconds of basking in the silence, open them once more. But with a forced smile.

"Hi, my name is Quinn. What's yours?"

My bright, 'cheery' smile falters as I continue to analyse my reflection. I look retarded. If anything, the smile makes me look even more sad.

Taking another breath, I speak again but this time actually trying to look friendly.

"Wanna sit with me at lunch?"

I hold the same hopeful expression until eventually, my eyes are clouded with tears. My facade drops and I'm back to my usual self.

I thought that maybe if I make an effort, I can make friends. Although, it's not as easy as it seems when bad rumours are spread by those you once cared about.

It hurts.

It really hurts.

But inside I truly know why friendships are merely a dream -and one that'll always stay the same for me.

It's simple. I have issues. Problems that make me different.

But it is ten times more painful when everyone makes sure you know it. And never forget 'til it's engrained into your mind.

I know I'm fat.
I know I'm ugly.
I know I'm weak.
I know I'm strange.
I know I'm not important.
I know I'm a waste of space.

You don't need to remind me.

With a sigh, I step back and look away from the mirror, disappointed with my features.

Why can't I look happy? Why can't I be happy?

Wiping away the traitorous tears, I search through the bathroom cabinet -untouched for only god knows how long. My arm reaches out aimlessly until I feel the silky texture of my makeup bag. I grab it and place it in front of me.

The tears keep flowing and I keep swiping them away furiously with the back of my hand as I tip out all of the contents. They scatter across the marble counter and I blindly pick up whatever reaches my eye first.

I pop off the lid of a deep red lipstick and swipe it carefully along my lips despite my trembling hands. I smile even as the tears continue to spill.

Next, I brush some mascara on my eyelashes. Then line the bottom of my eyelids with eyeliner followed by some blush on my pale cheeks.

Taking a comb, I brush down all of the stray ends until they're all flat and lost all bounciness.

Gently, I lay all the supplies down and grin at my reflection. Yet still I felt lost even with all the makeup hiding my imperfections.

Mascara was running down my cheeks as if I were crying black tears, and the lipstick had been smudged all over the place during the battle with my hair. My cheeks were bright pink from the over use of blush and despite the furious combing, my hair still sprung up.

However, it was most definitely an improvement.
Yet I still hate looking into the mirror and seeing this

thing.

♣

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Suprise!!! A different styled chapter and there will be a few chapters similar to this but the majority of this book will be written by dialogue :)

Hope this wasn't too bad. I hadn't written like this in ages and just thought I should mix it up a little (hope you don't mind).