The conservation played over and over again through my brain, his voice destitute of the warmness that once heated my heart. "Yes. I have been sleeping with Wendy. What's the big deal? Do you think you are some supermodel, bitch? I can barely get an erection even with a bag over your head." Was I hurting because my boyfriend has been cheating on me with my best friend? Or was it that reality hit that I am simply not pretty enough? I shied away from my reflection on the billboard at the bus stop, now, afraid to see what's staring back.
Standing at an unimpressive height of 1.65 with my traditional Asian eyes, coarse pitch black hair cut in a simply shapeless fashion and... tragically flat, I guess the virginity that I had with me was the only thing that made me attractive to Darren.
I thought back on when I first enrolled into the same secondary school with Wendy. We were friends for like, forever. Me, being the awkward anti-social girl that i was, stuck with her throughout my childhood, never bothering to know other people. Simply because, Wendy was more than enough. We had each other. and we knew each other almost more than we know ourselves.
Then puberty hits and i got the short end of the stick. Hormones found themselves at the right places on Wendy whilst mine was just a dire opposite. While she had a beautiful bosom and perfect complexion, I grew almost nothing across my chest and everything nasty on my hips and face. It then became apparent to her that our friendship was only a hindrance to her growing popularity in school. Yet, whatever conscience she had left pitied the sad excuse of her best friend as she dropped an occasional "How are u?" text every now and then.
I was the labeled loser in my school, where accidental spills on my skirt, missing textbooks, rude notes in my locker were considered part of my daily routine. Wendy told no one of our friendship, and I spent all my recesses in the empty classroom because the seniors may start picking on me again. It remained that way until I was in year 4 and all the seniors had graduated. And that was when I met Darren, and when words got out that he and I were an item, my life became worse than the living hell it already was.
I remember the insults, "He's blinded by your ugliness", "Ugly bitches gotta open their legs" rampantly stuffed into my locker, scribbled onto my desk and textbooks. My phone was stolen, Darren's number taken and almost every girl was texting him, hoping to score the grand prize. Which of course, was exactly what happened.
I shook the angry thoughts away. My sneakers were wet, laces stained grey from the mud-soaked puddles as I made no attempt to avoid them, sloshing through the flooded pavement. The weight of my school bag feeling seemingly light compared to the heart that's barely alive.
I know, everyone says it's just a secondary school crush where relationships last shorter than the lifespan of pop songs. But I thought Darren was special. The way his eyes twinkled with light everytime he held me in his arms, the way he interlaced his fingers with mine... Were they all really just part of the show he played? How I acquiescently allowed his sweet words to lure me into a labyrinth with no escape, deeper and deeper... I went.
The house was quiet when I reached home. I dropped my bag onto the table and slipped out of my wet uniform. My nipples were taut from the cold, picking up the draft coming through the window, sending ripples of shivers down my spine. Memories of Darren touching my breasts (or chest, in my case) lodged themselves in my mind, refusing to die away. How good his fingers felt, caressing, rubbing and arousing me with guilt that felt way too irresistible.
I broke into tears again, my legs trembling under the weight as I stumbled into the bathroom. Fool, is an understatement for what describes me. What was I thinking? How would such a rich, handsome boy like Darren ever fall for someone like me? My juvenile fairy-tale mindset has gotten too far-fetched. The hot shower hit me like a hailstorm, as though lashing me with cruel castigation. Mocking me, reprimanding me, wanting to wake me up.
I crumbled onto the floor, tears choking my distressed screams. My cheeks were flushed from the intense ache as I hammered the helpless floor tiles so hard that my fists grew numb to the pain. Until whatever strength I have left my body, I lied sprawled on the floor, drowning not just in the hot water, but in the depths of my despair.
I was absent from school for the following 2 days. The days then became weeks, and weeks became months. I started to become more withdrawn than i already was, not talking even when necessary. And Wendy remained collected, proudly the queen of the sovereign with her newly acquired arm candy Darren. I never looked at her again. When graduation came, mother was there in my place to collect the certificate. If it was not for my natural intellect, the absence would have killed my grades. I scored fair, nothing great. But I opted to omit the idea of further studies.
Mother passed away somewhere during June, when I was 17. Dad got into a huge mess after her departure. He got fired from work and turned alcoholic in a meek attempt to seek refuge. I didn't recognize him anymore. The house became gloomy, void of any strand of joy. I got a job at a restaurant which the demanding working hours kept me away from bumping into my dad at home. The distance between us grew, almost as far as mother was from us. Things stayed the same way until I passed 18, and 2 weeks after my birthday, I was struck with the turning point in my life.
...
lesson 1: beauty is only skin deep, but so is the human heart.
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