Beautiful Scars [1] ✔

Chapter Two

Sunlight streamed through a window, momentarily blinding me. I blinked rapidly, and opened my eyes. My eyes were tired and swollen, due to the non-end crying I had done since the minute I laid down. I was happy for a moment, then I stood up and recognized my surroundings. The guilt settled in again as I realized that I was not at home. I was not with my parents. My parents were dead. They were not coming back. They were gone, and it was all my fault. I felt the tears come again – no, not tears, more like body racking sobs. I couldn't hold it back anymore. Life wasn't a video game. They didn't have a restart button, you know? My parents weren't cats. I know, bad metaphor, but this was all I could think of. They didn't have nine lives; they just had one. And I took it from them. If I would've done something, maybe they'd still be here. I'd be the one in the casket, instead of them. Yeah, I like that idea. I spotted a pair of scissors on the bedside table and my eyes widened. It would be so quick, so easy. I walked forward.

Then the door opened.

I jumped, then walked two steps backwards.

Mrs. Tilly was smiling, wearing nothing but a house robe, bed pants, and fuzzy slippers. Her blonde hair was clipped back and her brown eyes were tired.

"Good morning, Sophie. How'd you sleep? Was the bed okay? I was a tad bit worried you wouldn't like it."

I felt heat cover my eyes. "It was fine. And don't call me Sophie. No one calls me Sophie." I retorted.

"But your Mom used to call you that, I should know. Every time she called, she'd say 'Sophie did this' or 'Sophie did that.' It's a gorgeous nickname. "

I felt angry tears prick behind my eyes. "It was a gorgeous nickname," I corrected. "And only Mom called me that."

Mrs. Tilly nodded. "I understand-"

"No you don't!" I yelled. It felt so good to just let it all out. "Just because Mom died doesn't mean she wanted a replacement. And she especially wouldn't have wanted a short bobble head if she could've picked one!"

Mrs. Tilly was silent for a few minutes, then she said quietly, "I'll leave you for a few minutes."

I nodded, so angry I couldn't even register what I was looking at anymore. "Good. And take your happiness with you. I don't want it!"

As soon as she left, I slammed the door shut behind her and looked at the scissors again. Now, I could do it. I stepped closer to the brown bedside table and grabbed the scissors. I held my left arm out and stared at the skin from my wrist to my elbow. I put my fingers through the slots and moved them, the action making the scissors open. I removed my fingers and held one slot and started to cut.

Instead of being non-creative about it, I decided to cut a little differently.

In cursive, I etched the word "Sorrow" into my flesh, blood spurting at the edges and in the middle. Blood dripped down my arm and splattered onto the wooden floor. After I finished, I set the bloody pair of scissors down on the table and blinked. I felt dizzy and my head was spinning. I breathed in one last breath as I fell to the floor, unconscious.

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A sharp knock on the door was enough to make me open my eyes. I was lying on the floor, the dried blood around the spot where my wrist was lying. I flipped it right side up, then peered at the writing. The word "Sorrow" was now just another marking into my skin, the blood disappeared and unnoticed.

I hurriedly went through the closet, searching for something that would cover the stain. I settled on a black blanket and tossed it over the carpet, at least for now.

"Come in," I called.

The door opened to reveal Mrs. Tilly and her smile. Guess she hadn't taken my advice after all.

"Hey, darlin'. I was wondering if you wanted to go to town today. You know, get you some new clothes maybe?"

I pondered on her words for a minute. "What would I wear? To go there?"

She bit her lip for a second then went to her room, returning with clothing. She threw them to me, smiling. "These were my neighbor's daughter's clothes. She gave them away a few months ago but I never had anyone to give them to. Consider yourself lucky." She laughed then gave me a wink. I walked towards the door and she moved to the side, pointing to a few doors behind her as I walked in that direction. "Bathroom's first door to the right." she hollered.

I opened the door and turned on the light, then shut it behind me. I lifted my underarm and sniffed. Ew. I reeked like the sewer.

I opened the shower curtain and turned on the water, settling for extremely hot. I stripped off the clothing I was wearing and stepped into the shower, wincing and mentally cursing as the water hit my scars all over my body. I grabbed the shampoo and scrubbed my hair for at least eight minutes, then let the shampoo sit for a few. As it sat in my hair, I grabbed the washrag and drenched it in soap, then soaped my entire body. I hovered under the water, sighing as the soap and the shampoo washed off of me. After I was finished, I lingered in the comfort of the shower, something I hadn't had in a while.

I got out of the shower, the towel safely tucked around my small body and grabbed my clothes. It was a pair of jeans, blue jeans, black boots, a red T-shirt and a single long black jacket with a hood. This was exactly what I wore at home, if not similar.

I yanked the clothing on my body, then grabbed the spare toothbrush and brushed my teeth, then washed my face. I dried my face with a towel before peering in the mirror.

My face was not the same as it used to be: pretty, clean, and flawless. Now it was ugly, dirty, and full of scars. Little marks, at least 1,000 of them, covered my face and body, all of them a dark brown. My eyes no longer held that spark anymore and I honestly didn't know when they would again.

I opened the bathroom door, and headed to the car, going get clothes for a new life, one I didn't really want or even ask for.

Authors note:

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