Things seemed to be getting better when Giselle, an outcast in Ashmoure High, finally found herself a friend -- a girl who saved her from her bullies. Except that wasn't the case. Unexplainable murders were occuring in the school she was in-Ashmoure...
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Two hazel green eyes stared back at me as water dripped off my chin into the sink. The pair of eyes moved to the long scar creeping from my right cheek to the skin just under my right earlobe. Hideous. That was the only thing that came to mind as I traced the healed tissue on my face. It was thick and crooked, a little, cracked path on my face, like the surface of a rejected porcelain vase.
I leant closer to the mirror, studying the slightly pink scar. The upper row of my teeth grinned against the lower row while anger boiled inside me. My breaths grew heavy and louder. Why did the scar have to be on the face? Why did it even have to exist?
Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds before exhaling loudly. And then I did it again, and again, and again until I felt the anger easing away. A method Nurse Priya taught me when I couldn't control my temper for the first few weeks. I reopened my eyes. They were watery. Thin, red veins were visible, and a trail of sorrow was flowing out from the right one.
I read something on the internet once: "The first tear to drop from the right eye means you're crying out of joy while the first tear to drop from the left means sadness."
Joy. Yeah, right. More like misery.
Another tear dropped from my left eye, making its way to the corner of my mouth. I licked it away with my tongue. It tasted a little salty, nothing like my life now which was extremely bitter.
"Sis, are you done yet? I need to use the bathroom." My little brother's voice boomed from the other side of the door.
I zapped out from my daze, my hand falling away from my face as I turned to the door.
"Five minutes!" I yelled.
Turning back to the mirror, I was surprised to find my face flooded with tears. There was even white, slimy mucus coming out from my nose. How did so many tears and mucus formed in such a short amount of time?
"But I have to pee, like, now!" he whined and knocked repeatedly on the door.
I grumbled under my breath. "I said, five minutes!"
With the tap switched on in the sink, I cupped my hands under the running water before splashing it repeatedly on my already wet and sticky face. The instant the warm water made contact with my skin, I felt a sudden peace, like I was able to wash away all the frustrations. Except I wished they actually leave for good.
"Sis, can you hurry up? My pee is dangerously near to spraying a mini fountain right now!"
So much for peace. I sighed and looked into the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy. Mucus was peeking out from my nostrils. I sucked it back into my nose. That damn scar was still there, gleaming in pride to taunt me. But at least I was clean now, or at least I hope I looked okay. I didn't want my family to think I had cried and started asking about my feelings or my day. I didn't want to answer any questions related to me if possible. I was sick of my family having to walk on eggshells around me ever since the incident.
