Half Full

Chapter 5

First day of class. Kill me now.

I know exactly how college life goes; I've spent two and a half years living the life. But I'm not simply transferring to another place. I'm starting a new life as a new person. More damaged, more broken and definitely scared.

I managed to avoid people while I was home for the past six months. It was fairly easy because most of the time I was trying to catch up with studying so I could come back, or rather go back. My family is not one of those super close ones that see each other every weekend; so my mom and my shrink were the only people that I really had to deal with.

Those few people that I saw on rare occasion, while going out to the store or running errands, simply acted like nothing happened. Their greetings were nothing but "How are you, Payton?" A meaningless, empty, formal sentence. They didn't even wait for an answer. And besides, what kind of answer could I give them? I'm sure they didn't want to hear how I really was. That's just not what people want to hear in general when they ask you that question. They don't really want to know how you feel inside or how you deal with something that has happened to you. They only want to hear the good stuff. There were moments when I wanted to tell them how I really felt. There were moments that I wanted to scream in their faces that I felt like shit, that my life has been ruined and the only person who is responsible for all of this is me....and maybe Jimmy. Yes, Jimmy for sure, but nobody knows that.

So for the past six months, I became a loner. And I was ok with that. I have my own circle of me, myself and I. I didn't need those pitying looks. I didn't need anybody to tell me how lucky I was to escape with just this. JUST THIS!

Half of your face to be destroyed!

The rest of your life to be destroyed!

Everything to be destroyed!

How the hell do you come back to being normal after this?

I would love to think that I came back stronger after this, that all of this would teach me something and I would stand strong on my two long legs and be, like, "See life? See Jimmy? No matter what you do it won't break me." But the sad truth is I'm nothing like that. I crumbled every time I recalled that night. There is a lot that died that night. There is a lot that has been scarred; my face is not the only part of me that needs to heal.

But I promised myself this one thing: If I go back to college, I will forget about my face and be the best person that I can be, the best plastic surgeon in the country. I will forget about my looks and be who I am, or maybe I will try to bring back the person I used to be.

Yes, my appearance is my own doing, not that I ever tried to blame anyone for that in the first place. When I pushed the gas pedal and somewhere in my foggy mind decided that I would run through that red light, I knew I was asking for disaster. What I didn't know was what kind of disaster that would be.

My shrink never found out, that all this was intentional. That none of that night was an accident. Accident my ass. I planned this for the whole two minutes while standing at the green light, waiting for the red to appear, and I knew how busy that intersection was. There was no denying that when I pushed that gas pedal, exactly five seconds after the red light appeared, there would be cars coming out from the side. I knew exactly what I was doing.

It just happened to look like a terrible accident. One that I had caused.

Premeditated. That would be the term they would use if my case had been a murder. It was a murder to some degree. I killed my old self, and I'm not sure if the new me is ready for the new life I created.