He led me to the bathroom. Nervousness surrounded him, like he didn't want me to know. But I needed to know. He opened the door and stepped aside. I pushed my way in. Steeling myself for the worst, I slowly raised my vision to the mirror. I froze as solid as I did the first time I saw the turtles.
I had a huge scar. Three deep cuts, now healed, sliced their way to my left eye. The eye itself was the worst part. It was fogged over by a cataract, and if you looked really closely, you could find grooves to match my scars. A face truly fitting my scarred past. But that wasn't it. The way it perfectly blended in with all the other scars I had collected over the years made me sick. I tried to force back tears, but one spilled over. Why was I crying? I'm alive. I shouldn't be alive. I wish I wasn't alive. Or was it that I'm scared to die? Or that I couldn't face my kids? Or that I don't want to remember? Without thinking, I punch the mirror as hard as I can. It cracks, but refuses to fall out of its place. I pull back my hand and look at the inequalities in place of what I saw before and felt better. I felt like it really showed me for the first time in fourteen years. That's right, I'm fourteen. I was unconscious on November 21, so that means I slept through my birthday.
I unconsciously hum the birthday tune. Is this madness? It's not so bad...
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The Girl that Never Wins
FanfictionMaggie is many things. A mother, a friend, a... monster? She struggles between how she IS and how she WAS while slowly falling for the most impossible of boys. How can she survive when her blood-covered hands are still ready to kill? How can she fi...
