Hazel Eyes and Peaches

chapter 1:

My heart sinks.

Down to the pits of my stomach.

I watch Mark move away, his face contorting into one of disgust. The aching in my chest brings tears to my eyes.

"They're ugly. So ugly."

I know. I know they are. I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep the tears off my face, and forcing myself to try and not throw up. The way he used to look at me is over. He will never see me as his girl ever again. I will never get to climb into his arms again. 

He will never brush my hair like my mother, Sabrina Taylor, used to. I will never again get to press my lips to his. He will never explain the rules of football to me again. His patience for my inability to remember so many rules is gone. 

The only thing he knows, the only thing that matters anymore, is the scars on my right thigh. All he will ever remember about me is the scars that trail from my upper thigh to my knee. He will only remember how horrible, disgusting, terrible I am and how ugly they are on my body. It's been a few years since I stopped. Therapy, rehab centers, and support from my brother being wonderful treatments.

But the scars don't disappear, no matter how much I want them to. They will always be the reminder that I once thought I was nothing. They are reminders of the moments in my life when I focused on the pain that I caused myself instead of what my father, Robert Matthews, caused me. They are reminders that I caused so much torture in my brother's life, that I have been part of the cause of his own suffering and stress. Just like I was the cause of my mother's. 

My father continued to use that as his excuse for doing what he has done for years before my brother finally turned eighteen. My brother, Westin Matthews, was able to gain custody of me by providing evidence that my father was allowing me to live in poor and unsanitary living conditions and with an alcohol abuser. 

That all worked, however, what Westin doesn't know, is that our father used to beat me around a bit too.

I've tried, I've tried so hard to hide the ugly parts of me, but I knew that my boyfriend (?) was going to have to know about my history at some point. I can't just lie to him and say that I might never do that to myself again, but I don't know that I won't. Every day is a raging battle against the turmoil inside my head that I want to silence. 

I continue to draw my sword and stab those thoughts that lure me into causing myself pain in the heart. Of course, I can't literally do that, but it helps me cope in my head to believe that every time I force them away, I'm killing them. The boy in front of me gathers his things, yanking two of his hoodies out of the closet. It's not that it hasn't happened before. 

I'm used to people leaving me when they see the scars and/or I tell them about them. Westin the only one who hasn't, and my mother wasn't alive at the time or I wouldn't have had to in the first place.

"Look, Riley. I like you but not that much. I'm not going to deal with that. You know it's disgusting right?"

I silently nod my head, watching him walk out my bedroom door. The front door slams open and closed as he practically runs out of the house, runs away from me. His car starts quickly, and I feel like such a monster. It's like I've shown him that I turn into a spider in my spare time. Everyone has had their struggles, this was mine and is mine that I'm dealing with. 

Yes, I know they are ugly, I know what they remind me of, and I know it's a lot of pressure for someone to love me despite them and to help me deal with what I go through. But I'm not asking anyone to solve my problems or provide me a perfect solution. I have to figure that out for myself, but I just want someone besides my brother there. 

I walk into school and people move away from me like I have this contagious disease, like I have the plague. I sit alone, with the thoughts that want to destroy me. Teachers don't give a shit, except for my AP psychology teacher, but she only sees me as an example.

But I'm not surprised that he left. It happens. Shit happens. If I can get through what I already have, I'm sure that I can wake up tomorrow, go to school, and fight my battles for myself.