Welcome to the first chapter of Scars, another Ziam story lol.
Hope you guys enjoy! 😊
Chapter 1:
LIAM
They were there. Everywhere I went. While I was walking down the street, sitting at my school desk, reading in the library, eating at the café, even in my own home. They were there. The stares.
I never used to get so much attention. In fact, I was basically invisible. I was just another boy in this bland town. I enjoyed sports, went to movies on the weekends, ate pizza while gaming with my friends, and was social with everyone. Then, the accident happened.
I didn't like to talk about it, but everyone knew about it. Everyone knew what happened in my family, and everyone knew that these scars would litter my face for the rest of my life. I wasn't normal anymore- I was a freak- the biggest of them all.
"Freak!" I heard someone call, feeling something hit my back as I tried to concentrate on the book I had in my hands. I was at the café, trying to catch up on reading while drinking some tea, but it was never that easy. Not with everyone else around.
"Hey, freak! Are you deaf now, too?" I heard. I knew who it was. Jaden. He was a jerk, but he was also the most popular boy in school. I guess everyone looked up to him. His dad was sheriff, he was head of the football team, and his mum was head of PTA. The typical perfect family. Meanwhile, my dad was a mechanic, I was an outcast, and my mum....
I didn't have time to feel any emotion except pain as I felt something get poured over my head-- hot tea. I jumped out of my chair, trying to get it out of my eyes. I heard laughter all around me, and I looked down, seeing my book full of tea that was drying to the pages. It turned the pure white paper into a molting brown.
"Hey! What the hell happened?" I heard a voice ask. It was a voice I have never heard before. Someone new to town. So, I hid my face. I looked down at the ground, pulling my hoodie up and over my head. This new person didn't have to know. They didn't have to see.
"What the hell was that? This is my uncle's shop! You can't just pour tea all over our customers! Out! All of you, out!" I heard the guy yell at Jaden and his group of friends. They all gave out mumbles of annoyance as they got up, chairs scraping against floors, and I was trying to leave as well before this guy came to talk to me.
I was quickly trying to find the right amount of money to pay for my tea when I felt someone push me to the floor, my cup falling and smashing to a hundred little pieces. The sound of the glass breaking made me freeze in shock and horror, so many memories filling my mind.
"Stop! You're driving too fast! The kids are in the car!" He yelled, screaming at her in a pleading voice, but she ignored him, laughing aloud at how high and happy she felt.
The tires screeched loudly, and there was a huge bang. I did my best to save her, but my best wasn't enough. Glass shattered. Raining down like glistening raindrops. Twinkling sounds like silver bells ringing. Beautiful, but deadly as they stained with red.
"Fucker!" Jaden called as he left, but I was stuck in my mind. All of the sounds around me felt distant, as if none of them were in focus at all. I felt a slight panic consume me, but a voice brought me back to my senses.
"Hey, are you okay?" I heard a voice ask softly, and I knew it was that guy. This guy that I've never met nor heard before. This guy that hasn't seen my face. He can't see my face.
I looked at the floor, blindly grabbing my book. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," I coughed out, finally grabbing my book. There was still some tea dripping onto my face from my hair, but I ignored it, just wanting to get out of this place already.
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.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
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.
The people who went to my high school either stayed far away from me, tried their best not to stare at my obvious disfigurement, or shoved me into lockers and called me a freak. I've had so many insults given to me, and each of them hurt more than the last.
Elderly people either avoided me because I just seemed like the dangerous type, or they looked at me with pity in their eyes and tried to console me when I never asked for it. It was as if I was an abandoned or lost animal that they had to care for.
As for little kids, they used to love me. I used to babysit a couple of toddlers for my neighbors before the accident, and they were great fun to be around, even if they were exhausting, but that changed quickly. Now, when little kids saw me, they would scream and cry for their parents. I've been called a monster before by one kid, and that somehow stung more than every other insult thrown my way. Because it wasn't even meant to be an insult. It was the brutal honesty that only kids could give.
"Yes," I said, hoping that my father would just drop it. I should have known better than that.
"Liam, I want you to tell me the truth, now. It was that Jaden kid, wasn't it? The same one who made your nose bleed in gym class yesterday," He demanded to know, but I refused to look at him.
"Liam, I need you to tell me the truth. How am I supposed to protect you when you won't even tell me the truth?" He questioned, and I knew I was hurting him. I knew that my dad was doing the best he could to care for me, but I couldn't tell him this. It wouldn't fix anything.
"You can't protect me from this, dad," I said, looking up at him and wondering what it was he saw in me. Did he see what everyone else saw? Did he see a freak? Did he see a loser with an insane mother? Did he see his own guilt? Surely he didn't see the same person I used to be.
"You can't protect me from this because it will always follow me. These scars will always be on my face, and they will always influence the way people see me. It's who I am," I admitted, feeling so broken down by life's circumstances and so angry and bitter. Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to pay when what happened wasn't my fault?
"No!" My dad stated firmly, and I stopped talking for a moment, an air of silence lingering around us before my dad took a deep breath and continued speaking. "No, Liam. Those scars are not who you are because they do not define you. You are still the same boy you always were. You're you. You're Liam. You're- you're my son," He said, and I turned away from him as I noticed the emotion in his voice.
My father was devastated after the accident. We were all in the car-- my dad, my mum, my sisters, and me. We were all taken to the hospital that night, and three of us were discharged after a couple of hours. One of us never made it out. And me... I was left hospitalized for three days, suffering the pain of the cuts on my skin and the wounds to the rest of my body. I was just glad that nobody else could see the most extreme damages underneath my clothing. At least they couldn't judge me for that.
I picked up my book from the table and turned back to look at my dad. His eyes were begging me to just hold on. I think he knew how I felt. In some way, he just seemed to know my thoughts-- how much I hated myself now, how angry I was at my mother, and how unfair I thought this was. But he respected me enough to not press me. If he did that, I think we both knew I would break completely.
"I'm sorry, dad," I apologized, tossing the napkins I used away and giving him my full attention. "It's just been hard, I guess," I shrugged.
I didn't have to delve deep into description or details. My father knew. He's gotten so many calls from my school about "accidents" I've had, and he was even working on figuring out some type of anti-bullying program for the school. A way to protect me when he wasn't there to do so; when adults weren't present.
So far, I've had a bloody nose from Jaden throwing a basketball straight at my face, and the nurse said I was lucky my nose wasn't broken. I've come home with bruises from the multiple fights I'd been a part of, causing my sister, Ruth, to fuss over me. I've even been followed home and threatened right in front of my family. That was the worst yet because I never wanted them to be involved in the unreasonable hatred.
Basically, I was disgusting to almost everybody. My family still loved me, but I didn't even want to look at them anymore. I couldn't even look at old photos of myself because it only made me despise my appearance even more. I've gotten rid of all of the family photos I used to have in my room.
"I know it has, Liam. I'm doing all I can to do what's best for us all. Do you want me to talk to Jaden's parents?" He asked, but I quickly shook my head.
"No," I said, watching my dad's face fall into a sorrowful frown. "It'll only make it worse. I'm just gonna go to my room and rest a while," I said. "I'll be fine, dad. I love you," I said, trying to reassure him a bit.
It wasn't my father's fault. He loved me unconditionally, and he was one of the few people on my side. He was fighting for me, but I knew there was nothing he could really do. Because my worst enemy was myself.
I rushed off to my room without awaiting my father's response, and I locked my door shut behind me. I set my book down on my nightstand, and I tore off my hoodie, tossing it onto my bed and sighing.
There was a time when I smiled so often once. I had so many friends, and I was even a part of a whole bunch of activities and clubs at school. I was even running for class president once upon a time, but that all seemed to change overnight. And I realized that those "friends" I had weren't really my friends at all.
They used me as a stepping stool. I was just someone popular that they could cling to, to get to the top. As soon as I fell, they diminished me and the memories we shared beneath their feet. Trampled and forgotten.
I don't know why I did it, but I made my way over to my restroom, took a deep breath, turned on the light, and looked at my own face in the mirror.
It seemed unrecognizable. My eyes were still the same color, my nose was still the same shape, and my lips were still the same tone of pink. But where my skin used to be smooth and tan, there were now jagged and ugly scars littered all around. There were cuts of different sizes and shapes, and it was so grotesque. I was disgusting to look at.
There was a cut that ran through my lip, leaving a small scar on the soft, pink skin, and I knew that nobody would ever want to kiss me. People could hardly even look at me. I could hardly look at me.
I pulled up my shirt, and I saw the true damage that was done-- the reason why I had such a prolonged stay in the hospital. Because when the accident happened, a pipe flew threw my door and tore through my side.
I don't remember much about the crash, but I do get constant shocks and glimpses of it-- like a form of PTSD. It could be the smallest crash of objects hitting the floor, and I would flinch heavily and freeze. It could be a bright light flashing-- like the flash on a camera-- and I would be a deer in the headlights. Or it could be the sound of glass breaking that would turn my blood cold.
All I know was that the pipe stuck in my side, and I lost a lot of blood. The doctors were amazed that I survived, but I didn't feel pike I did as soon as I saw my own reflection, felt the pain in my body and face. All I had now was a dull reminder of the pain there and the scar that further disfigured my body-- long and large near the side of my stomach.
I put my shirt back down with shaky hands, and I closed my eyes to check my own emotions. I couldn't cry. I didn't like the way it felt-- the way the tears rolled over the scars on my face like rivers. I hated touching my face to wipe them away. So I wouldn't cry.
I opened my eyes again and stared at myself. I knew I was ugly. Even if I had never been one to care that much about looks, I couldn't help but care now. And I felt conceited, superficial, and shallow.
"Liam, can we talk for a moment?" I heard Ruth's voice at the door as she knocked on it.
I quickly shut off the restroom light and rushed toward the door. I unlocked it and allowed her inside.
"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, pretending that nothing happened. I was fine. I had to be.
"Nothing, really. I just wanted to know how school was going. How are your grades? Did you join any new clubs?" She questioned, and I dreaded the conversation already, but I decided to just answer her.
"School's fine. Same as always. My grades are decent. No. I haven't joined any clubs," I said, giving rather blunt responses. I didn't want to deliberate.
I didn't want to tell her that school was hell, and I got picked on all the time. I didn't want to accept the fact that my straight A's slowly devolved into C's and D's, and even one F. I didn't want to tell her that there wasn't a single club that would even take me. The freak.
"Liam," She groaned out. "You promised you would try. Isn't there a single club you're interested in? What about creative writing? You love reading and writing and such. It would be perfect!" She recommended, and I shrugged.
"I don't think I'd fit in there," I said. More like I would only stand out like a sore thumb and create more reasons not to join the creative writing club.
"C'mon! You love writing!" Ruth pressed. "Promise me that you'll go to the meeting after school tomorrow," She stated, and I raised my eyebrow in confusion.
"How do you know there's a meeting tomorrow?" I questioned, and Ruth grinned proudly.
"I may have checked out the school website to find clubs for you to join," She confessed, not ashamed in the slightest. "Just promise to try it out," She said.
"Fine," I sighed, but I really didn't want to. I never shared my writing with anybody, and the other kids would probably be too distracted by my face to even write. I would be kicked out before the meeting would be over. "I'll check it out."
"Great! I'll pick you up after school, and we can go to the café to have some celebration muffins after!" She cheered, hugging me once before rushing away. "Night, Liam!"
I didn't offer a reply as I shut my door again and got dressed for bed, knowing that tomorrow would be a long and horrid day.
I hated being around new people because it always turned out the same way. They would see one look at my face, wrinkle their noses in disgust or stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed in shock, and they would see me for what I truly was. A monster. A loser. The boy with the crazy mum.
A freak.