One More Scar to Join the Others
Emily Anderson walked onto the bus, her ear buds in, Black Veil
Brides screaming in her ears. On the outside looking in an average
teenager living an average life. Emily’s life wasn’t an
average life but it was irregular in a bad way. One day living
Emily’s life would have you curled up in a ball crying a
waterfall of tears. Emily was bullied. Simply because of the way
she dressed. She dressed the way she did for a reason, a reason no
one knew. The previous year Emily’s mom had left Emily, her
bother, and her father. The three of them handled it differently.
Her brother left for collage and never called. Her father got rid
of everything that reminded him of her mother which included
interaction with his children. And Emily? Emily fell apart. She
resorted to cutting herself finding that the physical pain worked
to replace and sooth the mental pain that was tearing away at her.
Every day there was one more scar to join the others.
Along with her new state of mind came a new sense of style.
She died her hair purple. Her clothes became monotone, black and
grey only. She went on to pierce every inch of her ear, then
her lip, and lastly her eyebrow. All of it a feeble attempt to get
her father to notice her and to warn people to stay away, instead
they called her names and her father went on without caring. Every
day was a personal hell and there was no way to escape it, so one
more scar would join the others.
Today wasn’t much different from the other days she
faced. As she passed Ashley, Emily tensed. There was no one in the
world she hated more than Ashley. If you can imagine Barbie
as a fifteen year old girl you’d have Ashley. She was
gorgeous, smart, and worshiped by everyone around her. In reality
though, she was more like the Wicked Witch of the West, the culprit
behind a good many of the scars adorning Emily’s wrist.
As she went to take her seat Emily cranked up her music in a feeble
attempt to drown everyone else out. It didn’t help, it never
did. The girls’ insults were still loud and clear flying at
her like shards of broken glass a few more scars on her heart
joining the others.
“Ha. Look at her shirt that’s so stupid. What type of
band would wear makeup like that? It’s just
disgusting.” Ashley started sending all of the other girls
into a chorus of laughter.
“Not to mention her makeup,”
another girl jibed, “I mean does she like want to be a clown
or something?” More laughter. Another scar.
Emily felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but she couldn’t
cry here. She had to stay strong.
“Yeah, I’d bet you anything she’s a total nut
job. She’s probably going to get arrested for bringing a gun
to school and shooting everyone.”
“Oh my God, I know! She should be arrested just for looking
like that. Kids like her are crazy and should be locked up
ASAP.” It was Ashley again, with a waterfall of laughter
behind her.
Finally after what felt like forever, the bus came to Emily’s
stop. She walked down the aisle, trying to no avail, to ignore
everyone else. In the middle of the bus, she heard her name called.
Absentmindedly she turned, finding nothing other than her face now
covered in saliva and Ashley’s cackles filling ever corner of
her existence. Emily had a million things she wanted to say
but she could no longer form words. The shock filled her up and all
her old scars opened up and bled out any hope of ever healing.
“Aw, look at that!” Ashley cooed with false sympathy.
“The emo’s gone dumb.”
So Emily turned and ran. Laughter enveloped her tears now openly
cascaded down her face. She ran to her house and up the front
steps. Once inside, she fell to her knees and let the emotions
overwhelm her. She cried out of anger towards Ashley for her
cruelty, towards herself for having no choice but to succumb to the
knife, towards her mother for leaving her child alone, and towards
her father and brother for purposely forgetting her existence.
Emily couldn’t take another second of this. She needed her
knife, to feel the coolness of it against her skin, to feel it
digging deeper and deeper, to see the crimson red dripping out. She
needed one more scar to join the others, which was the price of
dulling the pain, and the price of living. It wouldn’t be
enough today and she knew that. The solution was so simple so
perfect. She’d add one more scar to all the others. It would
be the final scar, a scar right through her head.
And really, what was one more
scar?
One More Scar to Join the Others Emily Anderson walked onto the
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Apr 1, 2012 7:23pm
