by Laurel Eaton
I loved my face. My skin was crystal clear, and it shined like the sun. Guys loved my face too, but their girlfriends didn’t. I miss my face. I miss being able to feel the delicate touch of my fingers on my fair skin. I want it back. I want to be freed.
Now all I feel is pain and despair. Those cruel women took everything from me. I used to be beautiful. So did those women. They ruined me. They ruined themselves too.
It all started on my birthday. It was a school day. I was strolling through the halls as I usually did before class began. My boyfriend Mattie was ill. So, I walked alone that day. People stared.
I knew I was the prettiest girl in the school. I looked majestic in the uniform. A black long sleeve collared shirt with a tie and jacket. Even the hideous plaid skirt and Mary janes seemed to compliment me.
I was adored by many. I knew my worth and I knew it well. That day, I held my books close to my chest as I strolled the hall humming a tune I’d heard on the radio.
Being pretty had its downsides. I used to have so many friends… but… most of them hate me now. That day, they glared at me as I made my way past them.
They all hated me. You could feel their poor souls spilling over with rage and jealousy. I was glad I wasn’t them. But maybe I was too confident.
That day went by quickly and the images of their cunning glares weighed heavy on my mind. As I walked down to the first floor to leave for the day, a tall, thin girl with long, thick blonde hair and ugly brown eyes stopped me in my path. She smiled.
“Hey, in five, meet me in the fourth-floor bathroom,” she said in a welcoming tone. I nodded and turned, making my way to the bathroom with my bag flung over my shoulder. I thought nothing of it.
I was foolish to think I was so perfect. That I wouldn’t get hurt. That I’d be okay.
When I entered the bathroom, I noticed a group of girls surrounding me, their faces were familiar, my ex-friends and my history teacher’s face was among them.
My stomach churned. Fear dwelled within me. Why did they all have their hands behind their backs?
“Bye-bye Sun face!” Someone mumbled from behind me.
I turned. The ugly, brown-eyed blondie. She grinned a deceitful grin. I just eyed her.
I felt a sharp pain in my back. It hurt so bad I wanted to cry. The blondie removed her hands from behind her back, revealing a knife.
“You’ve done enough damage,” she screamed.
She threw me to the ground, she swung her hand, stabbing and slicing at my delicate skin as I kicked and punched. I cried. I screamed. It hurt so bad. I just wanted to die. My ears rang.
Blondie stood; her uniform was soaked in my blood. She stepped on my face. I flinched. Then everything went black. Nothing but darkness. And with that, here I am. Forever haunting the bathroom.
I thought I was perfect…
I watched as they left my lifeless body to rot there, hoping I’d get my revenge.
There were reports of my disappearance followed by a lot of searching. I was all over the news.
The principal was framed for my death and eventually, the school was shut down for good.
I couldn’t feel anything. I tried so hard to get someone to notice me. No one heard my cries. I was basically invisible.
There was no funeral. No one cared enough. I may not have been happy when I was alive, but now I’m miserable.
I miss my face.
My perfectly beautiful sun face.