Behind these walls

Dignity

Why must people always be

An echo and not a voice?

Why must people always see

The lies and not the truth?

Why must people always feel free

When trapped inside their skin?

Why must we be the key

When there is no lock to fill?

-My quote.

There's a reason I'm not popular at school. Number 1: I hate people. Number 2: People feel repulsed by my scars and, number 3: Kylen Rivera, my ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about 6 months. 1 month ago was when he hurt me in a way my father never could.

As I walk through the school hallway with cuts and bruises on my face which was free of make-up, everyone avoided me like I was a disease. Whispers were passed on as I walked through, head held high and using my scars as trophies. Last night was the turning point. I decided I didn't care anymore if they saw what really happened to me, even if they didn't know the truth behind it all.

I walk into Mr. Cole's class and people stare at me in trance like states. I take a seat at the far back of the room mostly so I don't have to answer any questions but I also didn't want to be seen. Mr. Cole starts writing on the board about the importance of WW2 I put my arms on the desk and lower my head. After a few minutes of doing nothing, a warm, soft hand touches my arm, right where a bruise is and gently shakes me awake. Blinking at the blurry person, my eyesight comes into focus and I notice Ryland sitting next to me on my right.

"Hey." Is all he says, but for some reason, that's all it takes to light up my day.

"Hey." I reply back to him. He smiles at me, a beautiful white-toothed smile. Today, he wears black jeans and a tight dark blue t-shirt, sculpting his muscles. His light brown hair has been purposefully spiked up at random angles, giving the lazy bedhead impression, but it suites him so well.

"How was your night?" He breathed out in a whisper. My mind recalls back to last night's incident as I remember being caged up in the box until around 6 in the morning when father finally let me out. He allowed me to shower and get ready for school whilst he had an early morning at work. That was my favourite part about Wednesdays; he worked early and didn't come home until late, which means he usually had no energy to abuse me.

My mind whirls back to the empty feeling I had all night. The feeling that no matter how long I was in there for, the longer nobody ever cared about me. It was heartbreaking, but not enough to break me completely just yet.

"Good." I lie to Ryland, "Yours?"

"The highlight was seeing you of course." Ryland winks at me and ever so slowly his gaze tilts down to the scar on my cheek, the red scar evident against my skin.

"How did you get that?" His voice fills with curiosity. "I don't remember seeing it yesterday."

"Oh, yeah my cat scratched me when I got home yesterday." The lies just keep coming, although not this time through clenched teeth, but through sadly shown disdain.

"Clara, I'm not an idiot. I know how much I look it, but I'm not, promise." He raises his eyebrows as if to ask how I got the cut again. Luckily, I'm saved from answering by Mr.Cole, who slams the whiteboard marker on his desk. Half of the girls in the class jump from the startling noise but regain their composure once they realised what had happened. I turn my eyes to the front of the room and look at the teacher. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ryland still staring at me, like he is still waiting for an answer. His gaze never wavers and his eyes are left unblinking. With all of my strength I force myself not to turn around to look into those beautiful chocolate eyes.