With The Scars You Left Me

I hummed slowly, applying the last coat of teal to my ring and pinky finger. My iPhone lit up next to me and I swiped across the screen, revealing the update alert, careful not to mess up my freshly painted nails. I double tapped on the update, then turned the volume louder on my Pandora.

It was a Saturday night and I was stuck home, doing absolutely nothing. A few months ago, I would've called anyone crazy for staying in on a Saturday night. Now? It was life. I never left the comfort of my little home, asides from going to the grocery store with my mom, or to the gym. But I didn't even go to the gym anymore. Not since then.

I feel my warm breath contrast on my cold fingers as I lightly blow on my nails, then look up to my door as two light taps followed by two twists of my doorknob are heard. "Come in." I whisper loud enough for only her to hear. That's been my mother and I's way of knowing when she was coming into my room. Anyone else who knocked, I didn't answer to. Simple as that.

Her small frame enters my room, her vibrant black hair contrasting on her tan skin. I remember when my hair was that alive. Unintentionally, I run my fingers through the bottom of my hair. Dull. Lifeless. Ugly.

"Ma'cherie, it's dinner time. Come downstairs." my mother says, her petite frame leaning against the door. I shake my head no and she sends me a half smile of sympathy. She knew I would say no, I always did. But I admired her efforts for asking every night.

I dropped the wisps of hair I had in my hand and crossed my legs one over the other, turning the corners of my lips up but not feeling the smile reach my eyes, or any part of my face for that matter. As soon as she shut the door it faltered and shivers ran up my spine.

I picked up my phone again, unlocking it and, to no surprise, having nothing new. The update had finished though. Still, no one ever texted me. No one had my number, anyway. But there was a reminder on my Calendar. Marked for June 4th, "Graduation Day". Not for me, of course. I was only a Junior. I didn't attend school though.

Not anymore at least.

It was my bestfriend Lillian's Graduation. It was in two weeks. We haven't spoken since...then. That was 5 months ago. That meant all the seniors were graduating in two weeks. I quickly deleted the event, no intent on going, and no courage to face anyone after what happened.

That also meant that in two weeks, it would be summer. And it would all blow over and everyone would forget. That my parents would be going on their trip to Italy. And that I'd be staying alone.

But I didn't want them to worry, I promised them I could handle it and I would be fine. What a lie that was. The tears were already pricking at my eyes. I shut them tight, gasping and opening them quickly as his face invaded the backs of my eye lids.

Every damn time I closed my eyes, he was there. It never went away and I don't think it ever will. My mother told me it would, but she was just saying that to make me feel better. I think we all knew that I would honestly never get over it.

Bandage me and feed me all the words and lies you need to but I will never, ever, ever, be the same ever again.

I stared up at my ceiling mournfully, agonizingly. He did this. I let the tears slide down my face and just blinked, unmoving. No matter how many times I wished I could go to sleep, I knew I shouldn't. Because nightmares of him would flood my mind and I knew I would wake up eventually.

The truth was, I never wanted to wake up.

I wiped my tears with the backs of my hands and stood, wobbling and clinging to the wall as I made my way to the bathroom. I creaked open the glass mirror that was also a cabinet, finding my pills and taking them dry. Placing both of my hands on the sink counter I stared down, waiting.

For my mind to clear. For the fogginess in my chest to leave.

But, it never did. It was just something that could not be changed.

I'm going to be waiting forever, and I can accept that. I have accepted that.

Dragging my legs behind me, I collapsed onto my bed and let the satin sheets wrap around my legs, making my scars burn as a reminder they were still there. They were screaming to be looked at, but I refused. The raw, ugly skin was a mark I'd never forget and have learned to ignore against my creamy skin. I cringed, and turned my Pandora full blast, preparing myself for the screams that would over come me as soon as I closed my eyes.

And they did, the screams over powered the music and my body racked with sobs trying to shut everything out. Every detail was so fresh, so clear in my mind. It felt like it was happening all over again. I wanted to let out a blood curling scream but all my throat did was close up and contract.

No one was going to wake me up out of this nightmare. After the first few months my parents stopped caring. Stopped trying. There was no use, I was either awake crying, or sleeping crying. It did no good and mostly just caused them stress. I knew little by little, they were giving up on me.

And this trip to Italy was them completely and totally giving up. But I didn't blame them. Who would want such a messed up daughter. A daughter who screams when you try to touch her and locks herself in her room all day crying. Who won't go out in public without wearing long sleeve shirts or sweatpants.
Who's body is so ugly. Scrawny, barren, scarred. Who everyone looks at with disgust. "Oh look, it's her. Yeah. She's the one. I can't believe she would lie like that. She's a cry for attention."

The bloody and bruised bodies clouded my vision, the odor of rust and sex filled my nostrils and I could almost feel the bile rise up in my throat all over again. His gray eyes looked at me, as he finished with one girl.

I was next.