A Scar As PunishmentI remember exactly how I got my scar . It seemed
Iike it was only yesterday when it all happened. The dreadful day that scarred me both internally and physically, and also caused me to lose my beloved brother.
It all started when me and my brother were planning to visit the city. We were both getting ready to go. I remember exactly how I looked. Flawless skin with no markings and blemishes. I was beautiful. With a smile that clearly shows no sign of pain or suffering or care for the world.
When my brother called out, I found out that he's the one who's going to drive us there when I thought someone else will. I don't mind having him to drive, but he doesn't have a driver's license. I was ignorant, I decided to just go with it and sat in the front seat.
We drove smoothly towards the city and everything was going pretty well. When suddenly I decided to tell him that my intention to go to the city was to meet up with a boyfriend. He calmly said no in the beginning. But I was being stubborn and I insisted that I should go and that's when it all happened. We started arguing and yelling and he would point out how bad it is for me to go but I didn't listen. I wouldn't. He got so furious that he didn't watch the road and drove off of it and went straight into a tree. I was unconcious.
I woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later with a gauze on my face. My dad was there. He looked at me and softly called my name. I was too weak to answer. Almost all of my family and relatives were there. And I remembered the look on my cousin's face. Her face was full of hatred...as if she knew exactly what happened in the car.
I eventually got home with the help of my relatives. They slowly helped me to my bedroom and let me sleep. Days and days pass and I slowly gain strength and conciousness. That's when my nanny told me that my brother is still in hospital. He was in coma. I was shocked...and scared. Cuz I'm the only one who knows that it was all my fault.
Tears are rapidly drenching my cheeks as you're reading this exact sentence.
A few more days later, I was strong enough to stand up and walk around the house. That's when I decided to look myself in the mirror.
There's a line of dried blood starting from the top center of my forehead, curving smoothly as it reaches my eyebrow. A sign of ripping. My forehead must have bashed against the dashboard so hard it ripped open. And to make it even more depressing, the doctor did a bad job at sewing them back together. My right eyebrow was a bit tilted. I looked like a monster.
I wasn't the same person ever since.