Scars (Ziam)

Freak

     I stood up, never lifting up my head as I grabbed napkins to attempt to save any pages of the book that were left. I turned away from him, digging into my pocket for money, and I set the right amount on the table as soon as I had it.

    "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, grabbing my arm and turning me to him. I quickly put my face down again, noticing that other people were watching this interaction. They all knew. They all knew this boy was talking to the freak of the town. The judgment in their eyes silenced me.

    "I'm fine," I whispered. I wasn't. Not inside, not outside. The damage done to me could be physically seen, but there was even more underneath my skin. There were things that lingered in my mind, and I couldn't get rid of them.

    "Hey, it's gonna be okay. They were just jerks," The guy offered, and even though I heard the smile in his voice, I knew he wouldn't be smiling if he saw what I looked like. He wouldn't be so friendly if he saw all of the scars.

     "I know," I said, trying to walk away now, but he continued speaking, his hold never faltering on my arm. I didn't really have the strength to shake it away. I was too humiliated.

     "C'mon. I'll help you clean up in the restroom, and I'll give you a new drink. On the house," He said, taking my hand and leading me to the restrooms. I felt all eyes on us, people who knew me. People who used to like me who now judge me for something I had no say in. People who used to smile at me every morning and offer a small greeting before continuing on with their lives. They used to never spare me a second glance. But now, their fixed stares followed me everywhere.

    "That's not necessary," I said, the building panic inside of me being the only reason I was able to pull my arm away. Still, he was stronger.

     "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. It'll be quick, and it's the least I could do. Customer hospitality, right?" He laughed, and I knew it would happen one way or another, so I looked up, looking him in the eyes.

     I watched as the smile fell off of his face and he gasped, his eyes losing that twinkle in them and opening wide in shock and fear. His hand fell from my arm, and I took that as my opportunity to leave.

    I turned, rushing out of the café, and not even stopping as I ran down the street. The worst part wasn't even the humility. I was used to that. I was used to seeing people react in such ways before never speaking to me again, like I asked for the scars to litter my face in their fashion. Like I wanted to feel the pain that came with creating them. No, it wasn't the worst part.

    The worst part was that when I looked up, I saw one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen.
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     I closed the front door quietly, not wanting to wake my dad if he was sleeping, but he wasn't. He was sitting on the couch, messing around with the radio that he's been trying to fix for the longest time. I don't see why he wouldn't just let the project go.

     "Liam, hey." He looked up at me, and I immediately saw him frown. "What happened to you?" He questioned, setting down the radio and standing up, looking at me expectantly. I knew he wanted the truth, but I could never seem to say it.

    "Nothing. Just... spilled some tea," I said, motioning to the ruined book. I went to the kitchen, hearing my dad's footsteps behind me, and I sighed as I set the book on the counter, opening it up to see that I could still make out most of the words. I felt some sort of relief fill me to just know that my book wasn't completely ruined. Only parts of it.

    "On yourself?" He questioned, and I knew he didn't believe me. He never did because he's seen first-hand how people treated me. He's seen it at the damn yearly town event that we always have. Everyone went, and I used to have tons of friends to ride rides with and play games with, but that all changed on that damn day.