Not Mine.

I have my fair share of scars. Lots of people say that scars tell stories. I'm sure they do. It's just that the stories mine tell are pretty boring. The time I fell into a pile of rusty nails after crashing my bike. Not too bad. The time I fell and scraped my knee. Even less interesting than the scar itself. The time I wore new shoes and they gave my feet blisters. See? Inane. Not even worth talking about. Sure I have the more interesting self-inflicted ones that will forever remind me of the bad times, but that's not really anything original.

But this particular story is definitely worth telling. It's not my scar, but it is most certainly my story. You see my boyfriend is a recovering drug addict and he got this scar during his last relapse. But it's my story and not his because he doesn't remember a thing. I'm the only one that knows what happened. I could have told him an elephant stepped on his face and he would have had to believe me because I was the only other person there and he was too drunk to remember.

My boyfriend drank proabably half a bottle of vodka and then passed out. When I finally woke him up I was pissed. He couldn't talk or understand anything. He tried to tell me, once he was a little more sober, in a stupid slurring voice that he didn't drink. I was outraged. How can even a drunk person be so stupid as to think that I wouldn't notice they were drunk. He could hardly open his eyes. His speech was ludicrous. He couldn't walk at all. So I said, "Well if you're not drunk then how come you can't walk?" Before I could stop him, he got up to try to prove to me that he could walk. He failed. He failed more miserably than I've ever seen anyone fail in my life.

There was a ledge at about mid thigh level. He lurched to his feet and in the same instant was already falling. Well he fell just right because he smacked his face right on that ledge. It made the most horrible sound I have ever heard in my life. He sat up and he had his hands to his face. I moved his hands and I was relieved to see that there was nothing wrong. Maybe his nose was broken or something but not too bad. Just then, a friend of ours walked over and asked me if I needed any help. I turned toward him and told him we were ok. When I turned back to my boyfriend I realized I had spoken too soon. My boyfriend's face was absolutely covered with blood. He had split his skin open right under his eyebrow. And his nose was scraped on the bridge and was definitely broken. He has accomplished a lot with that one fall.

My friend and I walked him back to her dorm (we were visiting her at college in New York City) with one of us on either side supporting him. He was rapping and telling us that we were totally trashed and making fun of us. We were such a spectacle that even the New Yorkers thought that we were worth staring at. We had some trouble getting into her dorm because security could clearly see he was injured and drunk but I think that they felt so bad for us that they just let us in.

In the morning I woke up and looked at my boyfriend. O. My. God. He had a huge black eye and there was dried blood all over him. I woke him up and he actually couldn't open his one eye. It was crusted shut with blood and the cut still hadn't stopped bleeding. I looked at it in the bathroom and it was much deeper than I thought it was. He needed stitches, but it was too late now and regardless he didn't have health insurance. His nose was kind of misshapen. Not crooked, but I've known him forever and his nose was not the shape it usually was. Definitely broken.

Now he has a big scar under his eyebrow, a scar on the bridge of his nose, and he has a new nose because we never did go to the hospital and it healed the way it was. We joke all the time that he has a scar for every time he's ever relapsed. And it's true. There's other relapses and other injuries like the broken fingers he got when he passed out while walking up the stairs. But this is the most interesting and it's MY story.

finder finder
18-21, F
Mar 7, 2010