Mind the Cut

The walk to school was the most awake I had ever been. The dull ache of my cheek was still there, hidden under a large band-aid that I hastily placed like blocking out reality. I was afraid to touch it again and find out, hoping that everything was an illusion. That somehow, my morning drowsiness had fooled me into believing something was horribly wrong.

It was normal, right? For someone to have a moment of doubt. To think that some aspect of reality had failed them and question everything.

It’s just a phase. You’ll get over it. Tough it out. You’re imagining things.

We’re taught to deal with the things that happen in life and not overthink too much about them. That you only hurt yourself when hyperfocusing on them.

Well, how the hell do I not hyperfocus on a chunk of my face missing?

It stung, really bad, when I was forced to use nail clippers to sever the wad of string that had unraveled from my face. And no matter how close I cut it down, a little flap remained, an ugly reminder that it would not go away.

The gouge was now starting to look horrifying, a dark recess in my cheek that should have been bleeding profusely yet did not. Rather, my finger touched it and only found empty space, like what should be there was replaced by a nothingness, not even bone to tell me whether I was still human. Curiosity made me wonder if my whole hand could fit in there, but the next moment of clarity beat me senseless at how stupid that thought was.

By the time I had the courage to step away from the mirror and head downstairs, Mother had already left for work, leaving me a packed lunch on the table. With no one to share my grief, I decided to hide it instead.

Blend into the crowd, walk in a straight line, and be like ants marching to one place. Soon, the strange feeling I had before bled into the morning routine and gave me a moment of solace to forget it.

“Yo! What’s up with you today?” A slap on the back jolted me out of my routine.

I turned around to see the smug face of a friend that I had known for years. At least, I thought he was a friend. He brushed back his short red hair and slung his bag over one shoulder with a grin.

“Hey, best friend! You look like shit today!”

“Dammit, Taylor. Why’d you jump me? I think I’ve had enough surprises for today already.”

“Hmm, I can see that. Finally got rid of that annoyance there.” He jabbed a finger right up to my face.

“Ha, I knew it! It’s been there for ages and no one would tell me! Like what the hell, do you revel in my suffering?”

“Of course, that’s what friends are for.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Some best friend he was. It seemed like he was nothing but trouble. But he was there, and annoying as he was, I had come to accept him. We chatted for a while, him going on and on about the latest episode of some anime. Not that I really cared, but it felt like that was all we really clicked on. It was better than all the times he used to pick on me. After making two blocks and enough ‘the friends we met along the way’ scenes, Taylor suddenly changed subjects.

“Man, I’m getting bored of this. I’ll come mess with you later, bud.”

Taylor slapped me on the back and ran ahead, needling through a crowd that seemed stitched tight. All I could do was continue with the flow.

I opened my locker and grabbed my stuff, shuffling to class while avoiding my worries. Sitting down in the classroom, there was a sense of relief that washed over me.

Everything was just a normal day I told myself again. A group of girls gossiped about the latest flings they had. Meanwhile, several guys hovered over their phones, coveting the latest gacha girl from several hard-bought pulls. I drowned myself in the meaningless but comforting banter, sinking into my seat and waiting for the bell to chime. Before I knew it, a girl with blue hair popped in front of me with a smile, surprising me.

“Geez, what the hell, Lacey! You’re going to give a guy a heart attack!”

“Hmm, is that any way to greet your girlfriend? Remember, did you not promise to think of me morning, noon and night?”

Still on guard for some reason, I looked back at her amused expression. I had been caught zoning off, completely forgetting our daily ritual of greetings. Filling my head with lovey-dovey thoughts of her would have been a good distraction from the events of this morning. A shiver crept up my spine again as I recalled.

“Say, did you…”

“Did I what?” she asked innocently.

For some reason, I clammed up, unable to go on. I sheepishly rubbed the band-aid on my cheek, as if making sure it was actually there. If she didn’t notice, then why would I indulge her in the gory details.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“You’re weird. But that’s fine, you’re you.” She reached into and gave me a peck on the other cheek.

“Thanks, I think.”

The door slid open, and the homeroom teacher walked in. That was the cue for everyone to filter to their seats. A glare came from her at any stragglers trying to delay state-mandated education.

I scratched my cheek. It felt annoying, but I resisted the urge to mess with it. The last thing I needed was someone to tell me that I was crazy. The moment would pass and then everything would be fine again. Yes, perfectly fine.

My head dove into the textbook, focusing on words, lines, and meanings. Anything to distract me from the itch.

There is no way I’m unraveling. Nobody else thinks anything is wrong. Everything is fine.

Reality did not work that way. Reality was normal, simple and dull. The more I told myself that, the more the ache dulled until it could be disregarded like the monotone voice of the teacher.

“Hey bud, wake up. It’s lunch time.”

At some point, I had fallen asleep, hand in face, propped up while staring down at a textbook. It was fortunate that no one had called on me, the flimsy façade of appearing attentive would have been blown wide open. The arm supporting my head was smacked aside, leaving me to faceplant on the desk.

It hurt, but not so badly that I couldn’t take it. A belly laugh caused me to turn around with anger across my face.

“That’s not funny.”

“Sure, it is. That’s what best buddies do, right? Able to put up with whatever shit happens.”

Annoyed, I reached around the inside of my desk and found a pair of scissors, feeling like I needed to take a stand. I don’t know what it was about Taylor, but he loved triggering me.

“Whatever shit happens, huh? You want to play that kind of game!”

The dull blades came together. If he were made of paper or fabric, then maybe he would quiver in his boots. But since he was human, kiddie scissors was hardly something to fear. He grabbed me by the head, putting me in a headlock. I panicked as his arm rubbed against the band-aid, sending a pain across my face.

“Ow, ow! Stop it! It hurts!”

Taylor showed no signs of stopping. I knew he was the type to go overboard. Finally snapping, I reached up and snatched a fistful of messy locks that looked more like a mop than hair. He tried to dodge, but he had been laughing too hard. With a quick snip of the scissors, a chunk of his red hair was sheared.

All at once, he let go, sending me tumbling. I held up my spoils of victory before him, thinking that he would finally be done with me. I was sick of it, calling a bully such as him a ‘friend’. After all, who wouldn’t be upset at having their head lopsided like that. Strangely, Taylor flashed me a smile.

“Did you have the balls to get it out of your system?”

“What?”

“Are you satisfied yet?” Taylor asked again, his voice calm.

He walked over and took the scissors from my frozen hands. Holding onto a chunk of hair on the other side, he clipped it off, balancing things a bit.

“Not enough? Want to throw hands some more? Maybe we go on until the blood spills. We are best buds, right? Anything to make you happy. Even if it means we kick each other’s asses to get it right.”

Something felt wrong. Taylor’s behavior started creeping me out. I egged him on, but his reaction left me speechless. I wanted him to see how our relationship was anything but friends. But somehow, Taylor was taking it as an even stronger sign of friendship.

He patted my shoulder, drawing me out of my whirlwind of confusion.

“It’s fine. It’s just hair. No need to worry so much. We’ll play later, best friend.”

Taylor placed the scissors into my hand and walked away, unbothered by anything at all. But for me, I never wanted to see him again.

What kind of relationship did I even have with Taylor? For as long as I knew, he felt like a shitty friend, but it seemed like we got along regardless. But why? Why did I put up with it all? I was starting to doubt myself, or rather, the hopeless optimism that came with this situation. Was it fine? Was it actually fine at all?

“Oh, there you are. Don’t you want to have lunch together?”

The sweet voice of Lacey pulled me from the spiral of destruction I was falling in. Her lovely face peeked into the classroom, wondering if I would follow. I slipped the scissors into my pocket and straightened my back.

Yes, of course I’m fine. I have a girlfriend after all. She’s understand me, right?