FACELESS

Chapter 25

AFTER

I was given a week of break, to cope with my new 'face' and new 'life' as a 'new' girl. By Monday, I am awoken by the clock at 6am in the morning, and I jolt awake.

The good thing about starting in a new school is that no one knows you; not the real you, anyways. Or the old you. You can sculpt a completely new identity that people will know you by. The popular girl, the choir kid, or the nerd at the back of the class. I skip breakfast, even though there was a cup of Milo on the table for me with two pieces of toast, and I head straight to the car. In the car, I tie my hair to the side, so that my side bangs cover the part of my face with the scar. If I lower my head enough, the scars can be completely covered; although I doubt the teachers will let me wear my hair so ruffled.

By the time I reach school, it's early in the morning. I am the first one to arrive, and I drag myself to the office. 

'Good morning.' I say, bending down and placing my bag down on the ground. When I come up, my eyes meet with the lady at the table. The plastic name tag reads 'Mdm Fadilah'. 

'Good morning,' she arches an eyebrow. 'What do you think you're wearing, young lady?'

'What?' 

'Your hair' she says, then leans her head into her hands. 'You think it is appropriate to wear your hair like that, in school?'

I fidget, uncomfortable under her gaze. 'My father should had called beforehand, about this arrangement. About my hair.' Or he didn't. Forgot about how he didn't give a shit about me, anyways. 

'No, I didn't.' Mdm Fadilah shook her head. 'Now, tie your hair back up before the teachers come in.'

'I'm not tying my hair back.' I argue, taking a tiny step back. My arms fidget at my sides, tempting to fold my arms in front of me. A defensive position, showing my weakness. 

'You are, young lady. Because if you don't, don't expect yourself to step in into this school!' Mdm Fadilah snapped back, her angry gaze on mine. I stand my ground, and raising my left hand, I part away the hair. Her jaw slackens, and her mouth slightly opens, unable to reply to my actions. 

'This is why.' I say, then putting my bangs over the scars again. 'I'm an ex-student, from last year. I just came back after recovery.'

'You're... that student from the science lab?' she gulps, then turns her gaze down, unable to meet my eyes. I turn my eyes downwards too, staring at my shoes. 

'Yes.'

And she lets me go.

But even then, I cannot forget the sympathy on her face. The sympathy. How sad. I had to be disfigured for someone to even notice and feel something for me. I had to have a ruined face before someone cared.