by Amy Sparks
Scarred
Copyright 2017 Amy Sparks
Published and Edited by Aria Grey at Smashwords
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Other Books By Amy Sparks
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not…
Screwed Up
my fiction life
Her
Sincerely, Romeo
A Whisper in the Wind
Dedication
To my family and to my friends for helping me write this book. I could have never done it without them, and without my imaginative, silly mind. In particular, I would like to thank Aria and my other friends for supporting me.
Thank You.
Chapter 1
Connor
Life. What is life? It’s shit, that’s the thing. It’s shit for people who don’t spend it well, and it’s shit for people whose life is gone, just like that. Well, my life was almost gone just like that. And it was all because of one stupid driver who hit me while I was driving. And yes, it was a car accident. A stupid one.
I was just driving home from a party. Yeah, I know. Car accidents usually happen at night, or when you're coming from a party. But I wasn’t drunk. Oh, no. I was sober and alert, my eyes full awake when I was driving. As I was about to turn, this stupid drunk driver hit me as I was turning, which made my car flip five times until it stopped.
I felt it, I felt him hitting me, but I wasn’t screaming. I didn’t do anything, and I just sat there in the damaged cold broken car. Blood everywhere, and I know it isn’t a pretty sight to see. Thank God someone called the ambulance, though.
I woke up three weeks later in the hospital, in shock. Yes, I had been in a coma. The first faces I saw were my parents. Sitting down on the chair. Praying, I think. As soon as I woke up, nurses and doctors rushed in before I even had a chance to say sorry to my parents. Apparently, they thought I was going to die for sure. The doctor said it was a ninety percent I was going to die. But I didn’t. Somehow, that ten percent stuck with me, and here I am. Alive. I guess my parents’ praying did work. Like I said, ninety percent of dying, coming from the doctor.
He told my parents and everyone that I was going to die, and there was no chance of me coming back alive. But I did, and here I am a year later, in bed listening to music while throwing a football up in the air.
I guess I should be lucky that I’m alive. But really? It’s the worst thing in the world for someone that wanted to die. I mean I never wanted to die, but ever since they told me about the crash, and how I needed a heart transplant, well, for people who’ve gone through that, living is the last thing they are thinking about. When I was in the coma they said that my heart wasn’t working and so I needed a heart transplant. Yup, scary, but honestly, I didn’t feel a thing. Maybe because of the coma that was caused because I hit my head hard during the crash, which caused some brain damage. The doctors figured that out after my heart transplant. I wasn’t functioning probably, and so they found out my brain was messed up too. So now I have a big eight-inch scar on top of my chest, where my heart is, also a metal plate in my head. Great, right? I now have a crappy brain and a crappy heart. I feel the luckiest boy in the entire world.
I stand up, since of thinking of the accident and I go to my mirror. I look normal, since it’s been a year, but really? Inside, I must look like shit. Take an x-ray of me, and then you’ll finally see what I look like. The boy in the mirror looks different. Not happy, not strong, not even worthy to be living. I mean I still look the same. I still work out, and I still have my muscles and abs. Twelve pack. Which would make all the girls go crazy, and the guys jealous. I’m also handsome. Like, really handsome. I know, I must sound like an asshole, but really, I am. My mother tells me that every day, which I know coming from a mom means a lie. But I did have lots of girls chasing after me. I was a kind of player.
I did have a girlfriend, but after the accident, I noticed she moved on and got another boyfriend. Nice, right? Wrong, I was mad before. Like, really mad. The mirror I’m looking at now is new. I broke my old one by punching it. If you saw my room before, I had holes in the walls. Like I said, I was mad. I mean can you blame me? She left me because I was hurt. She left me because she thought I was going to die, but no. I stayed alive which still haunts me every day.
Why the hell am I alive? What did I do to deserve this? I mean, maybe God must love me or something because I did nothing to deserve this. Now I’m basically just making myself mad, so I go downstairs. I see my parents sitting down on the couch watching a movie. My parents have been really nice to me throughout the whole year. I mean, they have barely left my side since I got out of the hospital. My mom thinks I’m brittle or something, and thinks that I’m going to fall if I just stand.
My dad thinks I’m pushing myself too much with school and stuff, which is not true. I mean I’m eighteen years old, going to university soon. I’m not giving that up, that’s for sure. I’m learning to become an engineer, and I’m not giving up that dream. I was going to be a football player but come on, that is so not going to happen, so engineering was my second plan. I know my parents hear me because of the creaks from the floor, and so they look up. Crap.
“Hey mom, dad,” I say with no emotion. I mean, why would I? I’m a cold, selfish asshole. Ever since the accident, that’s who I’ve been. And I haven’t changed since then. I just walk into the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out a Gatorade. I really want to reach for the beer, but since my heart is crap, and my brain, I wouldn’t risk it. I pull the cap off the Gatorade and take a big sip out of it. My parents are still looking at me, not the movie. I kind of feel bad for them caring about me so much. I mean it’s my fault I’m wounded. It’s my fault that they’ve stayed all those nights at the hospital, with no sleep. I just walk out of the kitchen and about to go upstairs.
“Wait, Connor.” I hear my mom’s voice behind me. I turn around and see her walking up to me with a bag in her hand. Oh, hell no, it’s not my birthday, is it? I think while scratching the back of my head. Like I said, brain damage, can’t remember a darn thing sometimes. Mostly the unimportant stuff.
“I bought you something nice for you to wear when we go out today.” Oh hell no. She pulls out a fit black dress shirt. I forgot, we have dinner plans with my aunt and uncle. Crap. I groan which makes my mom roll her eyes.
“Connor, you are wearing this, you hear me? I want you to look nice for tonight. Also, it kind of is your last night with us and your brothers.” She says which I totally forgot. I’m leaving, like tomorrow. Yup, tomorrow is the day I go to university, alone. I’m free, which may sound like I always wanted to leave. I did. I felt like a sick patient all year. I’ve been counting the days since I got out of the hospital. Now today’s the last day. I leave tomorrow. As I try not to smile, and just take the shirt out of my mom’s hands and go upstairs.
I turn around and whisper thank you to her, remembering my manners. At least I didn’t forget about those. I close the door and take off my shirt. There it is. That disgusting scar across my chest. It may look cool to the girls, and some guys, but to me? I hate looking at it every time I change. I quickly unbuttoned the dress shirt and put it on. I button it and then look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I look good. But it’s not like I care anymore. Before I would have been taking pics o
f myself and texting them to everyone I know. Now, I don’t give a crap anymore. And I will never give a crap ever again.
Chapter 2
Ava
People would look at me and think I look like a normal girl, with a normal life, and a normal personality, but really, I was the opposite. I was the girl who would go to parties every single night. The girl who would drink and drink and never stop until my body couldn’t take it anymore. I was the girl everybody knew, everybody heard about and seen. I was the girl who thought she had a boyfriend who loved her, but I was wrong.
I was wrong about everything. I’m not the girl that I was anymore. I’m not the girl who would go to parties or drink or have a boyfriend that said that he loved me. And it all started with one fight, one punch, and one call.
I remember like it was yesterday, although it was actually a year ago. I was at a party, of course with my friends, and Jayce, my (now) ex-boyfriend. I was stoned of course, and so was he. I wanted to go home so I was looking for him everywhere since he drove me here. I found him outside smoking pot which made me mad. I don't usually get mad when I’m stoned and so it surprised me that I was yelling at him. I think I was yelling at him though because he promised me he would stop smoking pot, but of course, that hadn’t changed.
I ran up to him and started hitting him until he took hold of both of my hands and yelled at me. I started crying, tears running down my face, which made him yell more. I spit at his face, and to win, he slapped me. Hard. I felt that hard palm across my face, making me fall on the ground. I went unconscious then woke up in the hospital. The first faces I saw were my parents'. My mom’s tears falling down her face, my dad’s worried look on his face, both coming to me in a hurry, smothering me in kisses.
They told me everything. How Jayce punched me, and that someone called the police when they saw me lying on the floor. They told me how Jayce got arrested because of slapping me. Which of course is abuse. I remember coming home after I woke up, going straight to my room and looking at myself in the mirror.
All I see is a monster. A monster with a black eye, a purple streak on the right cheek. The stitch on the top of my eyebrow which makes me twitch when I would touch it. My lips were swollen, which made them hard to touch. Now it’s been a year and if I look at myself again in the mirror, you wouldn’t see the wounds anymore. The only wound you would see is the wound in my heart. It’s broken, because of Jayce. It’s broken and now I have no trust in guys anymore. It’s broken because I gave my whole life to one guy, and he just threw it away. Threw it away like it was crap. I take my headphones off, and go downstairs. I am scared by my big sis. Of course.
“Em, I’m going to kill you.” I say putting a hand on my heart, feeling the beats going by fast.
“Oh, calm down, scaredy cat. I hope I didn’t make you poop your pants or something.” She says giving me a head rub. I hate how she treats me like a little kid. I mean we are only two years apart. I’m eighteen and she’s twenty. I mean, she’s old, but I’m old too. I kind of want to ask her when she’s going to leave to go back to college, but I shouldn’t ask. I know she’s here for me. I’m leaving tomorrow for university. That’s right, university. A top higher than her. I guess I was just smarter than her, and she was just plain smart. My sister and I look nothing alike though. I mean, she has brown dark chestnut hair, and I have blond hair with light streaks. She has dark brown eyes just like the colour of her hair, and I have blue eyes. I guess I kind of got it from my mom, and she got her looks from my dad. Ah, genes. I’m the same height as her. I think she’s a little bit lighter? But maybe only a pound. Anyway, we look nothing alike. Which I love. I wouldn’t look good with brown hair and eyes, and neither would she with mine.
I jump on her back while she walks away from me.
“Ava! What the hell!?” She says which makes me laugh. I know my parents are in the kitchen, probably thinking about how stupid we look right now. I mean we are adults, not little kids, but I don’t care.
“You scared me, and now I’m getting back at you,” I say as she jumps up and down. She knows that makes me scared. I let go right away before she makes a third jump. She laughs and combs down her hair.
I roll my eyes and go to the kitchen to eat something. My mom kisses my cheek while my dad kisses my head. Ugh, parents. I see that my mom has already made me breakfast, which I smile at her and sit down. She made me my favourite, of course. Whole wheat bagel with a big dollop of Nutella on it. I take a big bite which makes my sister laugh.
“What? I’m hungry. Don’t laugh at me. Don’t think I’ve seen you not eat like this. I’ve seen you eat bacon before, Em. And it’s not pretty.” I say which she sticks her tongue at me. Classic Em.
“Emily, don’t criticize your sister. If she wants to eat like that, she can. It’s her choice, not yours.” Ah, classic mom. Always sticking up for me. I kind of hate it now, though, since she has treated me like a little kid ever since the accident. But I can’t blame her. I would do that to my kid if her boyfriend hit her. I didn’t even know that I was finished the bagel, and now I was asking for more. I’m skinny, so no matter how much I eat, I don’t know where the hell it goes. I stand up going to the fridge pulling out a bag of bagels until my mom stops me.
“Ava, I don’t want you to eat anymore, or else you're going to spoil yourself for dinner.”
“Dinner?” I say turning around to face my mother with a question mark on my face.
“Yes, dinner. Remember? We’re meeting your grandparents there tonight.” She says leaning back on the island. Oh no, no, no, no. I am not facing my grandparents tonight. I mean I love them, but seriously? I am the last person to ever know what’s happening on family plans. I guess I should've seen it coming since I am leaving tomorrow for university and not coming back in a while. So, yeah, of course my grandparents want to come and see me. But it would be better if they came here, not us meeting them at a restaurant. I groan at my mom then turn around and head up in my room. My room and Emily’s room are beside each other, so she can basically hear everything I do in my room. I plop down on my room, then hear my door open.
“Leave, Em,” I say mumbling into my pillow. I feel her weight when she sits down on my bed. She puts her hand on my back and rubs it up and down. I love it. I know I'm supposed to hate it, but I love it. This is just what need. Emily rubbing my back, and not leaving my side. I mean she kind of got a little protective when she heard that I got abused, she rushed to the hospital and stayed by my side until I woke up. I mean, she cried, the first time I saw Em cry. And believe me, I am so going to cherish that moment forever in my head.
“Ava, what’s wrong?” She says in a quiet voice. So that no one can hear us.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” I say mumbling into my pillow. I don’t want to have a conversation right now.
“Well, what I think is that you're being a little stubborn Ava. I mean ever since ‘the accident’ you’ve been gloomy like hell. I mean, I know it’s been hard, but don’t take it on other people Ava. Not even yourself.” Damn it. Why does she gotta be so therapist-like? Crap. I don’t do anything, then feel the weight lifting from the bed. She left. I lift my head up a little bit, to see if she really left or if she’s going to scare me again. But she left. My door is closed and before it was opened. I don’t care that I’m moody. And it’s not because of ‘the accident’. Maybe it’s because I have nobody to love anymore. Nobody to care for. Nobody to hold, or hug, or kiss or touch. I mean, I have my family, but I don’t have anybody for the love. I’m alone. It’s only me, myself and I.
Chapter 3
Connor
I’m dressed all willy nilly, which is making me disgusted. I’m wearing the stupid dress shirt my mom bought me, along with a pair of my best dark jeans, and my Rolex watch that I got for my eighteenth birthday. I spray a bit of cologne on myself, which makes me cough. Of course. My brain can’t even handle this shit, so why should I? I put on my leather shoes that take me a long time to tie the
m. The laces are making my head feel like shit. My hands keep shaking and I keep blinking. Damn it. Screw it. I don’t care anymore. I open my door and yell out one of my brother’s names.
“Aiden!” I yell which makes him run up the stairs. I know I scared him since after the accident he’s been a little bit worried about me. Aiden is only three years younger from me, while James is twelve. We are only three years apart, for some reason. I guess my parents planned it or something. But what the hell do I know? Aiden comes into my room and checks me like ten times. Poor kid, I must’ve scared the shit out of him. All I need from him is to tie my shoelaces, and he must think I must be having a heart attack or something.
“What happened? You ok?” He says, panting.
“Can you tie my shoelaces?” I say and his eyes widen. He puts on a confused looked on his face, then understands. He knows my brain gets messed up sometimes since I called him James. I sit down on my bed and he comes to me and leans down tying my shoelaces. What would I do without my brothers? I probably would’ve died.
“There. You ok Connor? You know you can tell me anything. Is your brain messing with you again? Is anything hurting?” He says with concern. I mean, I know he’s fifteen, but God how much I feel sorry for the kid. I mean, he’s taking care of me! I’m supposed to be taking care of him, not the opposite. I rub his head, which makes his hair turn crazy. He laughs under his breath, then stands up and pats me on the shoulder.
Aiden and James look just like me, which makes me happy. We all have my dad’s looks, but my mom’s personality. Meaning that we look hot and tough, but also inside, we are soft and kind. I stand up and follow my brother downstairs. He makes me go first, somehow thinking that I may fall. I just walk downstairs normal, without concern that I may fall. I have fallen down the stairs before because of my brain damage, but that was because I was dizzy, and my eyes were wonky.