Horrible mess

1

I open my eyes, only to see that I was in an open area of woods, the grass warm and soft under my hands. I sit up, gasping in the warm, humid air that surrounded me. I lift a tentative hand up to my face, feeling that my skin was soft and unblemished. I was a child.

I stand up, walking around, looking up at the trees. Suddenly, it felt like I lost control of my body, running towards a large clearing where a beautiful blonde woman sat on a picnic blanket. I know where I am, and I want to leave. I hear a dog barking off in the distance.

"Mommy! Mommy! I want to pet the puppy!" I shout, but it was not me. It is a different me.

"Let's wait for daddy." Diane, my mom, states, a warm smile upon her lips.

"Pleeease?" I beg.

"Okay, just let me get my purse."

I run off though, not waiting for my mom. I see the dog. It was about my same height, with a big, slobbering mouth that had sharp canines. I scream inside my head, begging myself to stay away from the dog, but I didn't listen. I reach my hand out, but the dog leapt at me.

I scream as his sharp teeth tear through my face, pulling my right eye out of the socket, my face falling off my bones. My mom ran over, yelling at the dog, crying out for me, tearing the dog off my face. I didn't pass out. I look up at my mom with my left eye, only to see the dog tear out her throat and spill her intestines out all over the ground.

I wake up with a jolt, my mom's name on my lips as I sob out for her. I look around my new room at the Addison's Apartments. I know that my dad locked me in my room so I can't hop in the shower or rinse my face off. I lift my legs up to my face, crying into my knees.

When I finally calmed down enough, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the prosthetic that I wore because everyone called my face disgusting, ugly, revolting. I toss it beside me on my bed, sighing.

Why couldn't it have been me who died? If mom was still here, dad would be happy, and he wouldn't drink so much.

I touch my face, cringing at the feeling of torn, scarred skin that covered mainly the right side of my face, but it also spread to the left side. My glass eye wasn't in the socket, so I guess I would look like a zombie. My face is covered in deep, rigid scars, my nose is missing a chunk, and some of my cheek was missing so you could see my teeth and gums. I was a freak, a monster.

I get up only to sit on the floor by my bed. I reached under the mattress to pull out an envelope that was yellowing and is slightly torn. I pull out a photo of my mom and I, gazing at my mom's beautiful face and my perfectly normal face. It was the only photo in the house that I was in that didn't have my face crossed out on. Hell, dad didn't even know that I had it.

I then pull out a small wooden box from under my bed. I open it, pulling out gauze, ointment, and a razor blade. I soon start with my right arm, whispering all the things my dad and bullies have said to me.

"Freak.... loser.... monster...." Three cuts. "Horrible.... zombie.... just go die...." I sob as I repeat these in my head, just repeating the mantra until it became real in my own head. I was a freak, a monster who was horrible. It should have been me who died, not my mom. I stop, putting ointment on the cuts that covered both my arms, then wrapped them up in the gauze.

I lay back down in bed, but not to sleep. I would only have nightmares. I laid there to think. Think about anything and everything.