AmericaxReader: Beautiful scars

No one would love me
If they knew all the things I hide
My words fall to the floor
As tears drip through the telephone

You woke to the sound of your phone ringing. Eyes too tired to open, you felt the top of your nightstand for the phone, grabbing it eventually. You flipped open your phone and pressed it to your ear, letting out a tired “Hello.”

“Hey, _______!” You heard a familiar cheerful voice.

Your eyes shot open, “Oh, hey Alfred. Why’re you calling so early in the morning?”

Alfred chuckled, “It’s almost noon, _______. And I was wondering if you wanted to go to the beach. The weather’s perfect and the beach isn’t too far away.”

There was a long silence. You slowly thought about how to respond, well, more like what excuse you were going to use as your fingers traced the scars on your arms gingerly. You had stopped cutting months ago, but scars aren’t just going to go away. They were permanent. They were a constant reminder of how you screwed up your life, how you were limited do doing many fun things that others could do, all because you couldn’t figure out how to deal with the pain.

You decided to use your usual excuses, “I’m really tired. I don’t want to go anywhere today.”

There was a pause before Alfred let out a sigh. “Alright then. It’s just that, well, you never go to the beach with me. Every time I ask you, you’re always tired or busy.”

There was another long pause. You really wanted to go. You wanted so badly to go, to accept his invitation and spend all your time with him. But you couldn’t. Never. You knew that he would hate you if he saw your scars. You knew he would stop wanting to be around you. No one would. You learned that from your parents’ reactions when you told them that you cut. They don’t talk to you anymore.

“I’m sorry. I just want to relax today,” You finally said.

“Ok. Talk to you later then.”

“K, bye.”

You flipped the phone shut as the tears began to fall. They fell freely, down you cheeks, and onto your arms covered in eternal scars. Those scars…a curse that you had placed upon yourself.

~~~~

You lied down on the couch in a white tank top and sweats, reading a book that you found on the floor. You had just read the first five pages and you were already bored out of your mind. You threw the book over your head and stared at the ceiling.

I could be having so much fun right now. If only I hadn’t done that. If only-

Your thoughts were broken by a loud knock on your door.

Who the hell is that?

“__________!” You heard a voice. Alfred.

Shit.

You paused the TV quickly and grabbed the nearest jacket. Hastily putting it on, you ran to the door and slowly opened it.

“Hi Alfred. Um, what are you doing here?”

Alfred laughed, “You were relaxing, so I wanted to keep you company!”

“Uh ok. You can um, come right in then.” You said awkwardly.

Alfred, ignoring the awkwardness, trotted in and plopped onto the couch. You slowly walked to the couch and sat down next to him.

Alfred stared at you thoughtfully, “You always wear long sleeves, even in the house. Why is that?”

You stared at him, thinking about how to reply. Thinking about which lie to tell him, which one he would believe.

You relaxed your voice like you always did to make sure it sounded truthful. “Because I get cold easily. They’re comfortable too, which is a bonus.”

Alfred was about to respond, but you quickly stopped him by saying something first. “Oh, I’m such a horrible host! I forgot to ask you if you wanted something to eat.”

Alfred’s eyes lit up. “Can I have an Oreo milkshake with whipped cream? Oh, and lots of whipped cream!”

“Sure!” You jumped off the couch and walked to the kitchen, relieved.

“But _______. I think you would look beautiful if you didn’t cover yourself so much.”

You stopped walking for a moment, comprehending what he just said, tears wanting so desperately to fall as you tried your best to keep them in. Building up all your strength, you continued walking, trying to brush off his comment.

Liar. If you saw what I really looked like, you would be disgusted.

You opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk and whipped cream. You closed the fridge and opened the freezer, grabbing vanilla ice cream. You made your way to the counter, setting the ingredients down and bending down to open the cupboard. You grabbed a bag of Oreos, which was already opened, and threw it on the counter with the rest of the ingredients.

You grabbed the blender, plugging in the cord and bringing it closer into your reach. You grabbed a spoon in the drawer and opened the container of ice cream, which was almost empty. You scooped what remained into the blender and threw the carton away. You opened the bag of Oreos and threw about six Oreos into the blender. Then, you poured in some milk, pushing it aside when you were done. You put the cap on the blender and pushed the button that said “blend”.

When everything seemed blended enough, you reached to grab a glass from the cupboard. You poured in the milkshake, grabbed the can of whipped cream, and walked toward the living room.

Your scars were starting to ache. It was something that would happen sometimes.

Get him out of here as soon as possible. You don’t want him to find out about your scars. Never. He would HATE you. He would be DISGUSTED. He would DISPISE you. He would-

Suddenly, you slipped. You didn’t know how you slipped, but that didn’t matter right now. You were falling. The glass fell to the floor, shattering into small pieces. You followed face down, your arms falling first onto the shattered glass.

“___________!” Alfred screamed as he raced towards you.

Pain hit your arms like a bullet. It flowed through your arms, hurting more as the seconds passed. You shut your eyes, holding in your tears. You bit your lip as hard as you could to keep your screams from escaping as your arms throbbed in pain.

Alfred lifted you up as carefully as he could to your feet. You immediately lost balance and fell onto his chest, the pain sharpening.

“Oh god, ________! You're bleeding!” Blood was soaking your white jacket, and now starting to soak Alfred’s clothes.
Alfred’s hands moved to the top of your jacket, slowly pulling it off. You immediately pulled away from him, not even caring about the pain.

“No!” You screamed weakly.

Alfred started at you with concerned eyes. “________. We have to take the jacket off so I can take care for your wounds.”

“No!”

“_________! We have to! You’re bleeding. Do you hear me? You. Are. Bleeding. ”

“I don’t care!” You screamed, tears falling down your face.

You can’t know about my scars. You can’t. Never!

Alfred’s eyes widened with shock as he saw your tears. “_____-“

“You’d be so disgusted! Y-you’d hate me if you saw!” Your never ending tears kept falling.

Alfred pulled you into a tight hug. “_______. Don’t cry. I would never hate you. Never in my life. You’re precious to me. I would never be disgusted by someone as beautiful as you.” He rubbed your back soothingly. “Please, ________.”

You slowly pulled away from him and nodded, standing lifelessly in front of him. He nodded and carefully pulled your bloody jacket off. You closed your eyes, tears falling down your face.

Time to say goodbye to him.

Alfred now held the jacket in his hands. Your scars were now exposed. You felt ashamed, so you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hide yourself. But what Alfred did next was something you didn’t expect. Alfred threw off his jacket and took his shirt off. Your eyes widened when you saw his him: his shoulders and arms covered in long, deep scars. Just like you.

While you tried to figure out what to say, Alfred took his shirt and wrapped it around your left arm, tying it into a tight knot. He took your jacket and did the same to your other arm.

“You, you have scars,” your eyes were glued to Alfred’s arms.

“When I was thirteen, I was bullied for being fat. Everyone would call me names, even the teachers. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so disgusted about myself so I cut,” Alfred’s eyes were fixed on your arms. You could hear the nervousness in his voice. “After almost a year of doing this, I stopped and decided to tell my parents. They didn’t talk to me for a while. Even now they rarely talk to me. But the look on their face, the disgust in their eyes when they saw, hurt me more than anything else. I never wanted anyone to see my scars after that. I would buy makeup to hide my scars.”

Your eyes were widened in shock and sorrow. Never would you have guessed that Alfred would’ve cut.

Alfred lifted his head to look you in the face. “I kinda figured out that you were hiding your scars when you always covered yourself up. Plus, you never wanted to go to the beach with me.” He smiled, “You know, we’re kinda the same.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, resting your head on his shoulder.

Alfred returned the embrace. “You don’t have to hide your scars, __________. No matter what everyone thinks, please remember that you’re beautiful. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You could feel a tear run down the back of your neck. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You smiled, tears streaming down your face. “I love you Alfred.”

You’re the only person that has told me you love me, even when you saw my hideous form.

He pulled back slightly and kissed your forehead. Then, he held your hand and gently kissed your largest, deepest scar on your shoulder.

“I love you.”


Give me Your hand to hold
‘Cause I can’t stand to love alone.