Chapter 7 - Good Morning

Zelena.

The piercing sound of my high pitched beeping alarm clock woke me up early, well before Hank wakes up anyway. Quickly hitting the button on the top to silence the sound, I looked to my closed bedroom door for any signs of movement on the other side. Nothing. I laid there for a minute, contemplating, did I really need to go to school today? I scrunched up my nose at the thought of having to spend 8 hours at home with my dad. I sat upright and perched on the edge of my bed. Yesterday seemed like a distant memory. The three Greek Gods and their odd kindness, were they real, or was that a concussion induced hallucination? I don’t know which theory I’m more hopeful for. Doesn’t matter, I’m sure today will be the same old boring, lonely life. I rubbed my temple, remembering my little freak out in the forest. Oh God, now I really hope it was all a hallucination. How embarrassing, as if I’m not enough of a freak already. Oh well, it’s not like I’ll see him again anyway. Surely not.

I grabbed my towel and went for a shower. I turned the tap and let the water heat up. I like my shower water scolding hot, always have, even with the seeping wounds constantly littering my body. Once the steam filled most of the room, I climbed in and let the hot water run over my bruised and battered body. I poured the soap in my hands and scrubbed my hair, the water running off my body had that familiar tinge of red to it. I didn’t dare touch my back, instead, I let the hot water rinse the wounds clean. I tipped my head back and let the steaming water run over my face. Hot showers are so relaxing.

Holding my towel loosely at my hips, I stood in front of my mirror and examined my broken body. My wet hair, long and knotted, hung down just past my shoulders, so black it looked to have a purple hue to it. My pale clammy skin was spotted with new pinkish purple bruises and old yellowing bruises. Some are the size of a small coin, others inches across. My gold lifeless eyes sat above dark purple circles, with bushy dark brows that spread all the way out to my temples. My small and perky breasts hung slightly to the sides. My thin waist and stomach accentuated my ribcage, with my hip and collar bones protruding out. The pale skin was splattered with dark pink scars. My body, used as the canvas to exhibit my father’s abusive art project. I pulled my towel up and turned away as a tear fell. I don’t want to see it anymore. I’m disgusting, everything about me is grotesque.

I threw on some baggy jeans and a loose green t-shirt. I ran a brush through my wet hair and threw it over my shoulders. I inspected the gash on my forehead. It had scabbed over a bit now but still looked horrible and red. I got my trusty foundation bottle, which I stole on one of my grocery runs, and tipped it onto my fingers. I spread it over my face, covering my dark eyes and the new cut on my cheek. It disguised the small cut well enough, but it wasn’t going to do any good for the scabby mess on my forehead though. So, I pulled out another band-aid and strategically placed it over the red gash. Picking up my grey hoodie, backpack, and ratty old shoes, I quietly walked out of my bedroom. I tiptoed to the front door, passing the lounge room. Hank was in there passed out in his armchair with beer cans scattered around his feet.

I went through the door and closed it as quietly as possible behind me, running down the driveway and onto the street, I let out a sigh of relief. I walked a fair distance away from the house before sitting down and pulling my shoes on. Looking up to the light blue morning sky I took a deep breath. Another clear and beautiful day. After a few more deep breaths, I picked myself up and took off into the forest, still gazing up at the sky as I went. Walking slowly, enjoying the fresh air and cool spring breeze, I could easily lose myself.

“Good morning”. I jumped, startled at the sound of a voice from behind me.

“Whoa, sorry” he giggled, as I spun around to face him.

“I didn't mean to scare you” Gunner said putting his arms up with a smile.

“You didn’t” I whispered. I dropped my head and went to pull my hood up over my face.

“Stop” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist and forcing me to let go of the hood. My heart rate sped up and a cold shiver went through me. The hood fell and slid down the back of my head.

“Please don’t cover your face”. He moved to stand right in front of me, still holding my hand by my face. My entire body tensed up. I was frozen with panic, staring at his hold on my wrist. He stared at me with confusion and followed my gaze to our hands. He let me go and took a step back dropping his head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that” he mumbled, sliding his hands into his jean pockets.

“Just don’t cover your face, please, you don't have to hide from me”.

His eyes were sad and longing as they stared me down. I didn’t mean to upset him, I just panicked for a second there. All my life being grabbed usually means pain is coming. But something about Gunner was different. I don’t know what. But it’s like I could feel that he didn’t mean me any harm. Why do I have to be like this? Why do I have to be scared of everything? I had this strong urge to want to make him feel better, but I didn’t know how to, or why I needed to.

“I’m, I’m sorry, it’s just um” I mumbled as I dropped my head letting my hair fall over my face. He stepped forward and put his hand under my chin to lift my head. I complied and allowed him to slowly lift my face to his. I closed my eyes as he tucked the hair from my face behind my ear. He gasped and let go of my chin.

“Zee, what happened to your face?” he asked with a stern tone. I turned my head away, ashamed, and pulled my hair back out.