Scar (GxG)

Chapter 1

Everybody has scars. They are just a way of life. Whether they were from self-inflected wounds or forced upon oneself. A scar is a scar and it will be with you forever.

Not all are visible. If you're lucky, your scars are visible. The physical pain of seeing something can help get over the trauma. When the scar is left on your mind it's a lot harder to heal. You can feel the pain over and over again with no relief. Medication only works if you're lucky. Nothing is more unsettling then waking up from a nightmare to realize you were never asleep at all.

That has to be the worst. You come too after the nightmare or flashback and you have to remember where you are, what you were doing and what is going on around you. More times then I can count it has happened to me.

My name is Scar. Scar isn't my legal name but it's the only one others call me. It's the one I have come to love and loathe. Coming to terms about my so-called name has made things easier. It's still hard, don't get me wrong, but it's better then before.

I am 21 and a junior in college. What am I studying you may ask? Photography with a minor in psychology. Photos have always been important. With them, memories never die, no matter if they are good or bad.

Today I only have one class. English 115, better known as creative writing. One of the classes I didn't mind taking. It has been my favorite class so far. For my professor, she can be a real bitch sometimes. Ms. Bitch let us out early today so I can't say she is a total bitch all of the time.

"Veronica can you wait a second please?" She spoke as all of the other students filed out of the classroom.

Once the last student was out the door I grabbed my helmet off of the floor along with my leather jacket and walked to her desk.

"You know I prefer to be called Scar." I said and stared at her.

"Did you know that Saint Veronica is the patron saint of Photography?" She asked.

"I've been told." I answered.

"You are literally living up to your name." Professor Sophia Steward said.

"One of the reasons why I go by Scar." My attitude not faltering.

"What are the others?" She asked and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sophia, in Greek, mean's wisdom. Why don't you use some of your own to realize I like being called Scar?" I asked and turned my back to her.

People call me Scar because of one obvious thing. The three inch long scar that runs from the end of my left eyebrow down my left cheek. My body is covered in them. This one is the most visible though.

With my helmet on my head I climbed onto my motorcycle and start it up. My ninja roared to life and I got on my way to my apartment.

Scars can tell your whole life story if you let them. They are like one giant map and only one person has the key to decipher it, to unlock all of its secrets. You just have to be very careful of who you give the key too. If you give it to the wrong person they can ruin your life.

Whizzing through the streets of New York City has become a normal occurrence since I started at NYU. It's easy to hide in a big city. It's like you are one fish in an ocean.

Pulling up to my building I hopped off of my bike and walked inside. I took the elevator up to the fifth floor and walked down the hallway to my apartment. Before I even unlocked the door I can tell that my roommate is home.

Holy by PVRIS is blasting through the apartment as I shut the door behind me. Its not that I disapprove of the song choice, it's just so loud. And yes before you ask I do have a roommate. Her name is Amanda and we have known each other since our freshman year of college. We were roommates then and now three years later we are still roommates.