That Little Box That Beats In Your Chest

Lacey’s stomach grumbled halfway through math class, and she remembered she had had nothing to eat for lunch except that apple. Jack had ended up taking her cheeseburger right off her tray, with no regrets or second thoughts. It seemed he accepted her into their group, if he felt comfortable eating her food. Zack looked over at her, and she blushed, embarrassed that it was that loud.

“I have a quick question. That line there” he pointed to the board “is what colour?” Did he need glasses or something? “I’m colour-blind…” He looked down, and seemed annoyed he head to ask for her help.

“Oh, it’s blue.” Lacey replied. He thanked her, and she went back to copying down the notes.

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As the final bell rang, Lacey got up from her seat in physics class. Alex was in her class, but he was surrounded by girls. ‘He’s such a womanizer.’ Lacey thought, as she made her way out the door, and towards her locker.

She put away her books, and headed for her bus with her iPod on. Rian was sitting in the same seat as that morning, and he smiled at her as she got on, which she took as a hint to sit with him. As soon as her butt hit the seat, he grabbed her iPod to see what she was listening to.
“I Miss You, by Blink? I’m pleasantly surprised. But I prefer Family Reunion.”, he joked. A small smile was brought to her lips at that comment. Family Reunion was a very vulgar song, but catchy nonetheless. The rest of the ride went by in silence, and Lacey got up to leave, when Rian wished her a nice evening.

“Thanks” she said with a nod.

Walking home, Lacey prepared herself mentally. She knew what was waiting for her when she got home. The second she walked in, the questions started.

“How was your first day?”

“Did you make any friends?”

“What classes do you have?”

“Are your teachers nice?”

“Did you have lunch?”

“What did you have?”

“Was the bus ride long?”

“What does the school look like?”

“Do you have any homework?”

“Is there going to be a parent-teacher meeting anytime soon?”

Lacey’s mother was overwhelming, overprotective and very nervous. She never failed to tire Lacey with her constant stream of questions. Lacey wanted nothing but to be left alone. In front of other people, her mother was kind and a tad too motherly, but once they were left alone, she turned into a completely different person. She would get upset over the smallest things, and would demand better grades, a cleaner room, lighter makeup, a better attitude, a more talkative daughter. In short, she wanted Lacey to be the person she could never be.

There was a problem, however. Lacey had begun to hate herself for not being able to satiate her mother’s constant demands. An 85% had become ‘average’, and outings with friends had become ‘too far to drive to’. Lacey was alone. The words being drilled into her head her entire life (by not only bullies, but also by her mother when she was in one of her ‘moods’) had eventually resurfaced, and Lacey broke. She couldn’t stand herself. She found solace in scissor blades in the 8th grade, until her mother noticed the marks. Dismissing them as harmless, she had no idea what she missed.

In the 11th grade, she relapsed. A failed test, a pileup of homework and projects, and a weekend of fighting with her parents, were all it took. Lacey had never been the same since. Short shorts were eliminated from her closet, while bracelets and long sleeves were added. Everyone around her was clueless that Lacey had become her own bully. Her dad was offered a transfer to Baltimore for his communications company, and Lacey was ecstatic at the possibility of a scenery change.

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Closing her bedroom door, Lacey sank down onto her bed. She could hear her mother yelling at her very faintly through the door, demanding she come down and quit ignoring her. Lacey ignored that, turning up the volume on her iPod. She lay back, and started thinking about her day. She thought about the four boys she had met, and how different they each were, but she found herself thinking that perhaps she could eventually talk to them. Laughing at the thought, she got up and turned to the mirror. As she took off her jeans and t-shirt, she averted her eyes. She disgusted herself. All she saw was flaws. Her teeth weren’t white enough, her hair too short and frizzy. She was too pale, the scars a stark contrast to the porcelain skin. Turning around, she rummaged through a smaller box, and took out a razor blade, the metal winking at her, inviting her to externalize her self-loathing. She accepted the offer, and ran it across her hip once, twice, ten times, until it stung, and she had to get a tissue to wipe up the blood. She felt herself relaxing, and she fell into a deep sleep without eating. She didn’t hear her father come home later than usual, or her mother yelling at him for being so late. She fell headfirst into dreamland, where her skin was clear of marks, and where her parents got along.