Numb

Chapter One

Among all those hurtful words I was called the ones that stood out the most to me were those that described me as a freak, as a creature unknown to science that had a horrifying appearance. Those type of words were the ones that replayed over and over in my head like a record player that was stuck. There were other words however that also took place in my head such as the word whore. Whore of meaning: prostitute, which at the young age of fourteen being called a prostitute was one of the most unclear things that has happened in my life. Coming from a good, Christian family with a dad that is a pastor and a mom that did community service as a hobby you would think no one would hate me to the point of despising my existence. But they did, they all did and it was something I had learned to deal with.  

As I took each step walking home from school, I hummed one of my favorite songs: When She Cries by Britt Nicole. The weather I hated, the sun was shining bright through the blue clear sky giving normal people the sense of a happy day. I preferred cloudy, dark, rainy days that matched my daily mood. Not because I was pessimist but because I appreciated my appearance more on such days. I had the idea that on cloudy or rainy days my appearance seemed more pleasant. I was not sure why this was but ever since that idea stuck to my mind sunny, warm days were hated by my persona. 

I walked through the city to the apartment in which my parents and I lived. I walked by and observed different people it came to mind the thought that maybe happiness was not meant for me to be. You know those people that have a horrible childhood and when they grow up they become someone really successful, find the love of their life, have many pets, live in a nice house and such? As if they reserved their happiness, as if they saved it towards the middle and end of their life. That was not me. My childhood was darn great, two great parents raised me and I was surrounded by love and appreciated by many. To me it seemed like I wasted or spent my happiness in my early life and now that I came to my adolescence and through my adulthood I would not be happy nor successful. I wanted to tell myself that I was young and that happiness would appear at some point of my life. I wanted to believe that these deep thoughts  were only that, thoughts and not my reality. But when I did this, something inside me told me I was lying to myself. That it was pointless for me to try to convince myself that I would have a happy ending just like everybody else. Oh I knew how my life was going to play out, or so I thought.

"Mom? I'm home" I announced as I opened the door to our apartment. I threw my backpack on the couch when I realized it only fell to the floor. I looked around and realized my beloved mother had rearranged the living room. It was a bad habit of hers, did it every week or so, and every time was just as surprising as the last. How she found a way to rearrange and find a combination we had not already tried I did not know. I saw her walking towards me, and me being fairly good at observing I noticed two things.  The first one was that she was beautiful. I was not thinking this because she was my mother but because she really was a good looking woman. She was tall, dark hair, black eyes, pale skin and violet colored lips. I did not know how I was her daughter, no clue at all how she being gorgeous had a daughter with a horrible appearance. That aside, I also realized a bright smile on her face that differed from the smile she had on naturally everyday. This smile was the smile she got whenever she was about to do something exciting to her and not very pleasant to me. 

"What is it?" I asked her, and her smile vanished.

"What is what?" she replied.

"That smile I know well mom, it is the smile you get when you are about to do something new or exciting. So, tell me Camila...what is it?" 

"First of all I am your mother, therefore do not call me by my first name young lady. Second I do have something exciting to tell you" she said in a tone that made her sound like the happiest woman in the world.

"Mom, just tell me. Lets get this over with" I said, using a tone of anxiety.

"Wouldn't you like that! No honey, we'll wait until your father gets home. We'll talk this over at dinner" 

"Oh how wonderful" 

"Indeed it is" 

She placed her lips on my forehead as she always did and I headed up to my room. As I entered a strong smell of vanilla invade my nostrils. I laid on my bed and thought of what had occurred today and how I was going to have to face situations like this everyday until I reached my goal of living in New York and leave all those people behind. I closed my eyes and the image of Tanya and her friends surrounding me, telling me to die, the message that Yolanda got telling her to end our friendship of 6 years because I am such whore and the money thrown at me in order for me to "offer my services" all rushed through my mind. Tears traveled through my face and as they reached my mouth and the saltiness of them got to me I realize I was crying only causing me more pain. I was in pain for being hated, I was in pain for involving my friends in this, I was in pain for not being able to do anything about it but most importantly and as cliche as this sounds, I was in pain for being me. An urge to express how I felt came upon me. I went to my closet and took out my shoe box where I kept my razor blades.  I took one in my hand, and shaking I brought it up to my thigh and I pressed and moved it horizontally, making red, vibrant, blood gush out of my thighs.