Matriarch

Run Away

Ugly

If beauty is skin deep
yet it comes from within
where does ugly come from
where does ugly begin

ugly isn't the image
of an overweight girl
it's words that are whispered
insults that are hurled

it's cruelty and uncaring
and better than yous
it's the cliques of the cool kids
found in every school

but it's not always words
sometimes it's a look
speaking volumes of ugly
in a glance that is took

sometimes it's the way
that words are said
just to imply someone
would be better off dead

ugly is a bully
that acts like a clown
laughing at those who are different
just to see them torn down

ugly words are like weapons
deliberately aimed
not meant to kill
only intended to maim

but a sharp tongue can be lethal
in personal attacks
intimately delivered
like a knife in the back
                                  - Tim Garner

                                       Hana
"Hana!" My name is shouted from downstairs.
"What?" I call.
"Get down here right this instant young lady!" So it's Grandmother who's calling me. Why's she so mad? What did I do?
I push myself off my bed and head downstairs into the parlor room, where I see Grandmother, Father, and Alicia all sting on the couch. Grandmother's face is a portrait of fury and rage as she refuses to look at me, and Father, while not as harsh, looks angry as well. Alicia just gives me a look of sympathy. What's that all about?
"What's going on here?" I ask them.
Grandmother finally turns in my direction, only to gasp in horror.
"What are you wearing?!" She shouts, startling all of us.
I look down at my clothes and realize I had changed into some casual wear: a black t-shirt that was a bit too long, tucked into some black shorts. Well, 'short-shorts'. I had paired the outfit with my lucky socks. They were knee length and had T.A.R.D.I.S.'s on them. To anyone else it would've been a normal outfit, but to my still-living-in-the-1800's Grandmother, it was absolutely, positively, gut wrenchingly horrific.
I sighed heavily. "I'm wearing clothes, Grandmother."
"You're half naked! Go back upstairs and change, right this instant!" She yelled.
Actually, the only parts of me that were visible were my thighs and forearms, but of course that's just scandalous. Someone tell that to Grandmother, she walks around in dresses that leave her entire cleavage hanging out, but apparently it's okay because the were traditional Jacobian dresses. It's a sight that's forever seared into my memory...
"Grandmother, it's not 1756 anymore. This is normal." I sigh again.
"You look like a low rent prostitute! Change!" She screeches.
My father places a hand on her arm in a feeble attempt to calm her down. "Mother, please calm down, she can change after we talk." He sounds like he wants to get this all over with. You and me both.
Grandmother narrows her eyes and looks straight at me, straightening her posture and lifting her chin so she was literally looking down at me. "I will not speak to someone who looks so hideous! You will go upstairs and change into your own, normal, clothes, or I will put you in mine! I will not have my granddaughter looking like a stripper! Look at Alicia! She is dressed like the perfect lady, elegant and beautiful, and you look like a homeless woman who belongs in the gutter!" Grandmother scoffs. "I suppose it's not surprising, really. You eat like a pig, you sit hunched over like an ape, your hair is unruly and looks like a rat's nest, and apparently you dress as though your last pennies went to bartering for a can of beans!"

I feel a single tear slip down my cheek. My jaw hangs open slightly, and I can't move. After being knocked down by blow after blow, I'm not sure I can stand back up.
I'm about to turn away and walk anywhere else, when Grandmother opens her mouth again, and I known her reign of hate isn't over.
"You're stupid as an ape, too. I called you down here to tell you Mrs. Tundon informed us this morning you were failing your maths and French classes." Her voice was cold as ice and hard as stone. My head dropped suddenly and tears began gushing out. Grandmother just scoffed and called me a child.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Alicia flash me a look of pity. Her eyebrows are knitted together and raises slightly, her lips pulled into a tight line, like the kind of smile to give to a coworker you hardly know. It's the kind of look that says: sorry man, that sucks. It was a look of pity, but it wasn't genuine, I'm sorry this is happening pity. She's not really sorry. Father is still stone faced, and I know he's not sorry either. None of them are. My despair turns to rage, and I realize none of them care. Here I am, sobbing in front of them, and they don't care, they don't try and comfort me. No, because caring would require feeling something, and their hearts stopped beating long ago.
    I snap my head up, my blood boiling, my tongue tasting salty tears. "Fuck you!" I screech at Grandmother. "And fuck you, too!" I yell, aiming my fiery gaze at Father, before slowly turning my head to look at Alicia. "But fuck you most of  all! You're my sister! You're the only one I thought cared about me, even the tiniest bit! But you're all just heartless robots!" I spin around and run out the big double doors at the front of the house.
    I don't know where I'm going, and I really don't care. I run and run, through the muddy puddles in the road even though I'm not wearing any shoes, out from under the trees even though it's raining, and away from Grandmother's eyes, away from Alicia's pity, and away from my house, for it was never my home.