Teen Ink

Chapter 1

I can only think of one word that is stronger than the word b**ch. But why use it to describe me? The hurt that overwhelms me sears from the tip of my tongue, to the bottom of my feet, as I find myself looking back into those eyes. Those eyes that used to be unfathomable pits of love, and now are just the opposite. How blue eyes can ever manage to look mutinous is beyond me, but they are in front of me now. The long lashes fringing the death cage unnecessarily, and I take a deep breath, feeling as if just issued a punch to the stomach. Pain overwhelms me as a tear falls from his perfect lashes and streaks the smooth cheeks, allowing one stream of silver in its wake. Although I am the one being hurt here, I instinctively feel my own eyes watering. How could I not, when I had never seen him cry before? Him the one that had always been the first to stop my crying with his thumbs, gently pushing away the salty fluid while whispering hidden promises into my unwilling ears, and yet here he was; dying in front of me, and I was the one hurting him. I knew it had to be me. Why else would such a perfect creature hate me? I had never spurned him once, and yet here he was, cursing me. Words overflowed unsaid on my tongue as I let my mind whirl. I had never been very good at standing up for myself, especially when I had obviously done something so terrible that would warrant a tear from the sun. My sun. It was like telling the stars that she had just done something awful to upset the moon. Of course you wouldn’t question if the stars had done something wrong in the first place, because the moon was so much out of their league in the first place, that her paying attention to the stars was huge, and so by anger, t he stars must have really blown it. You didn’t question it; just merely accepted it as fact. I tried not to gaze up at his face too much after that, but failed miserably. I was hurting him. Who cared that he had hurt me, what was a name when he was crying? I reached a finger up to flick it away, but moved to soon, without thinking. The slap came hard and fast, and I couldn’t help buy cry out after receiving the blow full in the face. Confusion crowded my face, and for once in my life I was filled with such a rage toward him, that I didn’t recognize myself. How dare he slap me? The question burned through my mind with such intensity, that I stopped for a split second, examining the new feeling surging through my body. Anger. I had never known anything like it, and yet here it was, hot and new, pushing through my body; urging to be unleashed. “No.” The word escaped noiselessly from my mouth, before I knew it, and then erupted again, time with fervor and power. “NO!” I clambered away from him, his perfect face twisting into sheer bewilderment, as if wondering where I had suddenly gotten the strength to stand up for myself. As if he was the proverbial lion, standing over the lamb, ready to come in for the kill, and yet suddenly the lamb bleats and runs away. I stood before him watching in dismay and horror at his face. Who was this creature that stood before me, and how had I not recognized him for what he was before? Anger took over his perfect jaw, and I watched as he flexed one perfectly toned bicep. Normally, I would have been petrified, the angry bruise that pounced on my face, stinging in the early morning air, took away all normality from me. I stood before him, my knees knocking dangerously together, and yet I would not back down; he had never hurt me, and in that instance he had knocked some sense into me. Tears formed in my eyes, and this time it had been him who had made them occur. I bit my lip, vowing anxiously to not drop one single tear in his presence, I would not stoop that low. I raised my hand, not quite sure what to do with it. Not even quite sure how to form a fist, let alone how to do much damage with it; but I found my fingers interlocking into some sort of fist- ready to throw a punch. A scoff appeared on his face, and I watched as he stepped toward me, daring me on as he turned one perfectly smooth cheek to me. “Hit me. I dare you.” His five words hit the air with little force, and yet the way they were spoken mocked me. My eyes narrowed and I tried to steady myself, trying to figure out where to hit. Slowly I pulled back my hand, and I could see it tremble as I tried to find a target. The profanity was whispered again, and in my rage, I hit him. I had wanted it to be hard and fast, something that would make him know that I wouldn’t take his trash. You know, in the movies where the innocent little girl finally gets to beat up the one who bullies her, but it didn’t quite end up that way. In my rage, I had tucked my thumb inside of my fist, and punched him, straight on the face. Not even leaving a mark, but breaking my thumb instead. Scorn appeared on his handsome face, as he looked down on me. Disdain etching lines onto his perfect brow, and the tears I had tried so hard to not show, poured unchecked down my pale cheeks… And that was when I woke up.