FACELESS

Chapter 26

AFTER 

When class begins, I notice the amount of people staring at me when they enter the classroom. 

The school system here is simple; every student comes into school by 7:30am. When they arrive earlier, they go to their classroom and rest. Many students just come into school in the morning and sleep on the table, or play with their phones and listen to music with their headphones in. 

I arrived first this morning, followed by a girl I've seen before last year, when she was my junior. Now we are in the same class. I hide myself within my seat. I feel angry, as if this is unfair to me. Why am I the one disfigured, with my life ruined, and not somebody else? Why? Why? Why?

A question I've asked myself multiple times, yet I've never gotten an answer from anyone. 

When the bell rings, I make my way down to the hall for the morning assembly. I hide myself within the curtain of my hair, yet I could still feel the gaze of people onto me. The hair; the hair is the issue here. Because no one is allowed to have their hair down in school, so I'm the oddball everyone wants to know about.  The girl with her hair down, sitting at the back of the class. 

I curse silently under my breath, and then lean my head onto the table, and close my eyes. I mentally prepare myself for the amount of eyes on me when I go to the assembly hall. Silently, I pray to a god. Then, I let out a soft chuckle, and a sigh of defeat. I could either go the whole day with my hair down, or tie it up and have my scarred face showed to the world. Either way could go horribly wrong. I imagine the people staring at me, laughing at me, criticising me, feeling pity for me.

At least I'll get attention for once.

 I am growing tired of constantly thinking about what others think, what they will think of me. I was like this even before the incident, and now... I am still living like this, with this torturous way of thinking that no one will ever like no matter what I do. No matter who I am. 

The bell rings; by ringing, I mean a soft melody of a piano tune. Something like Beethoven. I stand up, carrying a storybook in my hand, and walk out the door. Whispers fly by my ears, and I'm afraid that I cannot sink any further into the ground. I brisk walk to the staircase at the side, and walk as fast I can down the stairs, bouncing at the toes of my feet. With my left hand, I hold onto the ends of my bangs, barely covering my scars.

By the time I reach the first level, the whispers are still here. They aren't just words, but actions. Whispers come in different forms. You can hear them, but most of them they are silent. Silent whispers conveyed via glances and stares. In their eyes, you can hear them go 'What is wrong with her?', and then your mind spirals you into someplace where you don't exist as a human being; where everybody talks about the way you laugh, the way you walk, as if you aren't a human being. 

I walk to the assembly hall, clenching tightly on my book. Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, although the weather is dry and cool today. Cool, gentle air blows into my face – the air conditioner is on. I dodge down, avoiding my hair from being blown away. From the corner of my eyes, I spot the large poster held by a student: 4E4

I quickly make my way there, and sit down cross legged, my head nearly hiding in my lap. I want to disappear. The girl holding the poster is staring at me, even though I cannot see her, I can feel her gaze. You can always feel the gaze someone has on you, judging you, scrutinising you.

'Abigail?'

'Yes.' I let out a whisper. Then swallow, my throat dry and itching. I flip open my book desperately, grabbing at the edge of the pages, and randomly choose a page to read on. My eyes dart across the pages and the sentence, yet nothing was going it; I was reading the words, jumping onto a new sentence every few seconds, but the words weren't making sense in my mind. I blink hard, squinting my eyes together, and then start the page over again. I repeat this several times, and then I shut the book and sigh. 

'Hi.' 

My eyes dart to my side. A girl. And she's bending down, sitting next to me, cross legged. Then, a flash of another uniform.

I stay quiet. 

'Hi?' 

'Hi.' I reply, my nails digging into my palm. 

'Are you okay?' she asks, leaning towards me. I stay still, breathing heavier, and tears swim in my eyes, and the ache in my chest grows larger, until I can barely breathe and my lips are parted in pain. Please tell me it's not true, please tell me it's not. My eyes dart again, and then I want to scream. I'm screaming internally, my mind is yelling, it's clawing at the cavity of my heart, digging itself into my chest like thorns.

'No,' I hissed out, blinking fast, and the tears fall onto my pinafore, spreading like black ink across the fabric.  The girl quiets, then she leans back. I can feel the concern radiating off of her, and she reaches a hand towards me, and I still. I stare at the hand, and she puts it on my knee. 

'Want to talk about it?'

Her face is blurry to me, by the time I raise my head to look at her, because my eyes are overwhelming me with tears. I do not know how she looks like, but her eyes are unnaturally kind that they shine. Through the pain, I shut my eyes, blinking away the tears.

And I take a breath, turn away, and pretend that I did not meet Zac's eyes across the hall.