A Girl With a Broken Smile

Yeah, I do this just about every day. Writing letters to her as if it would her back, or as if it would somehow save me from this hell hole I call home. I’m not even sure why I bother living anymore. Maybe it's because deep down inside I know I can get through this. Maybe it’s so I can say I survived if I ever managed to make it through all of this. Whatever the reason is, I’m slowly giving up.

See, I usually only ever do two things. One, stay locked away in my room praying that he’d forget that I was there or in the park with my best friend Blair. Blair and I have been the best of friends since the first grade. We had different teachers, but met on the playground. Some boy was picking on me for my glasses, and she ended up shoving his face into the ground. We’ve been friends ever since, and I never wore glasses again.

We’re two completely different people, but that’s what I love about us. Blair is a strong woman, and can carry herself very well. She’s not afraid to open her mouth and say something, and she’s not all bark and no bite either. I remember back in eighth grade when some stuck up prep was saying horrible things to us; Blair ended beating her face in. I just stood there and watched. I on the other hand, am not strong, and I cannot carry myself well. I’m shy, and quiet. I let people say things to me, too scared to speak up for myself. I’d rather sit at home with a book then go out and party. Blair usually always ended up dragging me along anyways. Don’t get me wrong, I love Blair it’s just I wish she’d tone it down sometimes.

Blair is the kind of girl that could get just about any boy that she wanted. She had perfect everything; looks to die for. Long burgundy hair with a heart shaped face. Nice full lips, with with piercing dark green eyes. Blair had a nice flat stomach with curvy hips, and a full chest. I couldn’t lie, I was jealous. I’d never admit it to her though. She did have a bad side though. Blair had a bad habit of drinking and smoking a lot. It’s something that I’ve been trying to help her out with for awhile. She does get better, but when one little thing goes wrong it’s like all the work never happen and she’s back to square one. Maybe I’m just not meant to help people. Hell, I can’t even help myself.

What about me? Well, let’s just say I’m pretty average. I’m skinny, perhaps too skinny; little curves and a small round bust. A few freckles lay across my pale skin, along with deep purple bruises. My eyes are just a typical light blue color, with dark eyelashes. My hair never fell the way I wanted it to. So typically I'd just through the blonde strands up into a ponytail and call it a day. Yeah, there wasn't much special about me, but I didn't really care. I had more things to worry about rather than just my looks.

Blair was the only one who knew my dark secret; a secret that I tried so hard to keep hidden from the world. When I first told her it, she asked if she wanted to get me help. She asked me if I wanted her to call someone. I told her no, and she gave me a weird look. For some reason it’s like I’m embarrassed about it, or maybe I was ashamed. Who knows, I just didn’t want people to find out. I don’t want to hear all their apologizes, or see their sympathetic looks. They didn’t do this to me, so why say sorry? After all, they probably didn’t mean it anyways. They felt like they had to say something, that’s all. They don’t care, they just feel bad.

It all started ten years ago when I was twelve. My mother was taking me to a movie. She didn’t want to go, because the roads were so bad. It was snowing hard that day, and the roads were covered in a thick sheet of black ice. I was young, I didn’t know any better. I begged and begged her to go, and finally she gave in. At first everything was going good. Yes, she was driving slowly, but we left an too hour early. We were only two blocks away from the house when it all happened. The car suddenly filled with lights, and then… And then everything went black.



“Mommy, please!” The little blonde headed girl begged as she pulled down on her mother’s sweater to get her attention. Her mother just ignored her, walking towards the kitchen with her daughter practically hanging onto her side. Anna has been at this for almost an hour, begging her mother to go see the new Christmas movie that had recently came out. At first her mother was just having fun with it, saying little things that got Anna slightly mad, and then it just got annoying.

“No Anna, I’ve already told you, the roads are terrible.” She stated once again. Anna let out a frustrated growl, and ran around so she was now blocking her mother’s way.

“But, mom!” Anna exclaimed, her mother just shook her head. “It’s not fair! All my friends have already seen it, and daddy just got the new tires on the truck. We’ll be fine!” Tears started forming into the little girls eyes, as she pouted up at her mother.

“Anna, there is no need to cry.” Her mother said with a sigh. “We’ll go see it when the roads clear up, it’ll still be playing.” Her voice was much softer this time. Anna stood there for a moment, before wiping the tears away. She was starting to run out of ideas to get her to go.

“Please, as a Christmas gift?” Anna asked. “You can tell Santa that I don’t want anything else. Okay? Please!” She nearly shouted the last word, and then offered her one last chance. A huge, toothy smile. Her mother sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. “Fine,” Was all she said, but that was all Anna needed to hear. She jumped with a laugh, and hugged her mom tightly, before running off to through on her shoes.

“Mark, I’m taking Anna to the movies, we should be back in a couple hours!” Anna’s mother shouted to her husband as she slipped on her boats. Mark grumbled something, before sighing and muting the T.V.

“You shouldn’t give in so easily.” He warned as he rolled his eyes. “Just be careful Stacy.” He yelled to her, before turning the volume back up. Stacy didn’t say anything, just mumbled something under her breath, and grabbed Anna’s hand.

It took about ten minutes just to get two blocks away. Stacy’s eyes were locked on the road in front of her, well Anna’s were elsewhere. She never saw it coming, a drunken truck driver speeding up the wrong side of road. By the time Stacy managed to see the headlights over the top of the hill, it was too late. It all happened so fast. The truck was flooded with bright lights, and the sound of honking echoed through Anna’s ears. Her mother told her to duck, but when it actually trigged in her head, she had already bashed it against the window. Anna’s vision was fading, and everything around her growing fuzzy. All she could hear was her mother blood curdling screams, and the sound of metal on metal. She heard something shatter, and millions of tiny sharp objects scattered themselves across her body. Anna blacked out and had to stay at the hospital for a month, her mother died on impact.

Ever since that day, her father was different. She knew deep down that he hated her now. She couldn’t blame him though; it was her fault her mother had died. She killed his wife, and she knew she could never be forgiven for that. She couldn’t even forgive herself for it. Maybe that’s why she took his beatings; she honestly believed that she deserved it. She believed that she could only feel pain. She caused her father so much pain, so it was only fair that he returned the favor. Still, she hated it.



I didn’t even realize that I was crying, until I glanced down at the sheet of paper, small droplets of water mixing with the black ink. I sighed, and tore the sheet out of my notebook, before crinkling it up and throwing it away. I hated crying, it showed a sign of weakness. Over the years I’ve learned that it’s better not to show any pain, or sadness. It’s better to be strong through it all, because if you cry you’re already letting the other person win.

I placed my hands on the cool oak table, and slowly pushed myself up. I was wearing something that Blair had given me. Blair told me to look my best today, because she was going to try to get my mind of things. I wasn’t really sure what she had up her sleeve, but I knew it had to do with some sort of party. I didn’t want to go, but I knew better then to fight it. Blair had a strange gift for getting her way.

I was dressed in a short black dress with a red piece of ribbon that tied around the waist. It sort of gave me more curves, but I just didn't feel right in it. Blair was amazing at picking out the perfect things for different body types. It was on the short side though, so I made a note to myself to not to bend down at all. She also loaned me a pair of black heals that made me feel about five inches taller. Blair ended up doing my hair, even though I tried to fight it. She made loose curls and placed them in a high ponytai with my bangs swept slightly to one side. I couldn't lie, I looked really nice, but I didn’t want this. I didn’t deserve to have fun, I was a murderer.