Scars
- Reads 21
- Votes 5
- Parts 1
MatureOngoing<5 mins
Last published Thu, Jan 28, 2016
I lay in the red pool of liquid and I had stopped crying hours ago.... about HIM.. I still can't believe I cried over that bitch. Well screw it... I'm a girl. Although I try not to be one. Maybe I could stitch my p*ssy up, but NO! I need a good f*ck .. But who in their right mind would f*ck me. I have scars from the numerous times I've cut myself and I'm not healing fast enough. I blame life but it would be unfair to do that. Most of what happened to me is is really my fault.
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*EDITORS' CHOICE 2021*After falling for her senior year teacher, Louise learns a harsh lesson on what adulthood isn't. Louise has some trauma to unpack. Heartbreak's a bitch, and her first relationship had been anything but normal. Thinking herself mature for her age, her affair with Mr. Cain started swooningly well. Except things ended quite abruptly. It's a lot for a seventeen year old to handle. But who's really at fault for what happened? Who even is Mr. Cain, and what is he hiding? From the wreckage of her naivety and self-esteem, can Louise save her friendships and rebuild herself? Our love songs aren't telling the whole truth. How can this be? In this tale of vulnerability, adolescence and painful reckoning, the arrogance of youth demands a price. * "'You're what, Louise?' he asked. 'You're sorry? What am I supposed to do here? How can I turn this around? How can I tell you that everything you want and feel is reciprocated, when I have to go back to work and pretend none of it happened?' 'I don't know the answer!' I cried. 'Neither of us do.' I threw my hands up in defeat. He caught them before they could fall. 'But how do I go back to living without your words?' His voice became a whisper. He squeezed my fingers tightly, closing his eyes and bringing them to his chest. 'I need how you make me feel, Luiza. I need it to feel alive. I won't stay away. No one's made me feel this good before. And I can't stand myself for wanting what I want. What do I do?' I was a violin bow on the verge of splintering. Every inch of me pulsed with an ache that began from the marrow of my bones. Fate had brought us here. At this crossroads of ours, there were a hundred different choices to make. A thousand different lifetimes to choose from, stemming from and decided entirely by my next choice. And in the end, I chose incorrectly. I held his face between my hands, feeling the echoing pulse of his skin. I brought his face to mine. I kissed him."
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