I hated those two doors that opened up to that hell hole. I felt like my throat was closing in when I tightened my grip on the handle. Pulling the door open I walked into a sea of high schoolers. Coming, going, talking. It was so loud. I got bumped into by some boy with blond hair and nearly dropped my books. I inhaled and forced my legs to walk to the locker I had been assigned to.
It's my sophomore year of high school. My first day since summer ended. I never really liked the summer time. It was so hot and the bugs were dreadful.
I pile my books in my locker, close the door and lock it. Sucking in a breath, I make my way through the endlessly sea of kids and make it to the bathroom door.
Last year, I passed my classes, but I didn't enjoy school. I never had many friends and I was pretty much an outcast, I still am. I was hoping that it would change this year, but my expectations disappeared when I walked through that wretched door.
I find myself in the mirror. The light brunette hair that my mother and I share and the light blue eyes my mother tells me I got from my father. She doesn't talk about my father that much. I don't either. I never will forgive him for what he did.
I was only seven at the time. I loved my father with my entire heart. He always took me to the park and carried me on his shoulders. I was his little girl. We would go get hotdogs and he would take me any place I liked. Those were the good days. I was a happy child. Our home was always a happy place, my mother and father always laughed and smiled, we never really had many problems.
Of course, nothing stays the same.
My mom had just picked me up from school and we drove home. I was a happy seven-year old. I remember being so excited to get home and tell my father about my day. I ran up the stairs of our front porch and opened the door. I remember my backpack bouncing on my back and the faint scent of pine; we were surrounded by pines trees.
What I saw, will haunt me forever. It will always be in the back of my mind. Lurking and waiting for me to relive that moment and slink down to the floor.
He was kissing another woman on the same couch he kissed my forehead on that night before. I sputtered daddy and his eyes landed on mine. Tears ran down my cheeks and my mother started screaming profanities at him. I closed my palms over my ears and bolted for the back door. I was only seven. I didn't understand everything about the meaning of cheating. All I knew was that he didn't love me anymore. Every way he treated me was in vain. He was a selfish man.
My parents divorced shortly after the incident and my mother received full custody of me. I never saw my father again. He could be dead for all I know. Sometimes I wish he was.
I snap out of my thoughts and notice I'm gripping the sink with such force that my knuckles have turned white. I inhale again and betray my thoughts. My father doesn't bring nice memories.
I straighten my back and look in the mirror again. I never really cared for doing myself up. I usually just threw my hair in a ponytail and went on with life. I decided to do something different today. I wore it down, and actually put on a little makeup.
I watch a pile of girls walk in the door from my stance at the sink. They're all talking and laughing. Waiting for each one to come out of the stall. They're all skinny and perfect with their skinny hair to match; stick straight. One gives me a smirk and I shrug it off. Walking out the door, I quietly make my way to the classroom. Math class, great, something I'm okay at.
I find a seat in the back and cross my arms over the desk. Tilting my forehead on my arms. Trying to block out the memories of my mother's sobs and the face of my father's mistress that's etched in my memory. I hear constant shuffling and voices but I ignore them until I hear the teacher and raise my head to find the class completely filled.
"Good morning! I hope you all had a great summer break." a small woman with a soft voice, says. She buttons her suit jacket and starts to write on the white board. "My name is Mrs. Fields. I'm going to call out everyone's names now. Just stand up when your name is called." I swallow thickly. I hate attention. I hate it when people stare at me. But I do as I'm told. I watch the kids stand up when their name is called.
"Annabell Reeves." a pretty girl with long blonde hair stands up and smiles.
"Tucker Morris." a guy with brunette hair stands up and merely waves his hand.
"David Filler." I realize this is the same boy who ran into me in the hallway. Blond curls are mopped on his head and he instantly sinks back into his seat.
"Kimberly Jones." I swallow the lump in my throat and stand up. Quickly sitting back down and watching everyone turn their heads back at Mrs. Fields.
I sigh. Every year they do that. Every year I have to stand up and watch every one just stare at me.
The rest of the day doesn't change. It is the first day of the school year, it's always the same. I try to stay out of everyone's way and keep to myself. That's what I do every year.
I find my mom's car in the parking lot and sit in the passenger seat.
"How was your first day?" my mother asks. I try to be optimistic, for her sake. But I can't fake around my mother.
"Just like every other first day, mom." she knows I'm not good with people. I hear her sigh and she cranks the car.
I watch the power lines fly past and think about what my father is doing. If he ever thinks about the family he left behind. If he has more kids now. Forgot about me and mom.
After almost eight years since he left, it still hurts like the scar was inflicted yesterday.