Scars of the Past Read Online Free PDF Page A

despite her emotionally neglectful upbringing, she had turned out pretty well grounded.
    Amanda and I let Sydney take the master bedroom and bathroom, which were located on the opposite side of the apartment, but it was more for our benefit than hers. Sydney was a very social person, bringing home random guys to hook up with. She jokingly referred to her revolving door of sexual partners as ‘Daddy Issues’ but the sad part was it was probably pretty accurate.
    The set up at home gave Sydney the privacy she wanted and it gave Amanda and me the distance we needed. We didn’t have to worry we’d find some naked man in our bathroom, or hear the proof of her achievements through the wall. However, there were several mornings here and there where we’d encounter him doing the walk of shame when we were already in the kitchen. Those mornings were amusing for us, not so much for him.
    The three of us had been best friends since middle school, and although Amanda had earned a scholarship to Yale University, the three of us had ended up here together when she decided to stay close to her mom.
    Amanda’s father had passed away our freshman year of high school, shortly after her mother was diagnosed with very early onset Alzheimer’s disease. Her mom was deteriorating at a rapidly depressing rate, and Amanda spent a lot of time helping her, despite the live-in nurse they had. Amanda was constantly warring with herself about whether or not she should move back in with her mom, but during her lucid times her mom absolutely forbid it, stating that Amanda needed to live her life.
    Turning on the water, I stood in front of the mirror and winced at my reflection. My bright blue eyes looked dim and they were swollen from my constant crying. My dirty blonde hair that usually hung at my shoulders was a matted mess that could have given Einstein a run for his money. But more than that I just looked like a stranger. I had two small bruises on my chin, nail marks on my wrists, finger shaped bruises on my knee, and worst of all- a bite mark on my breast.
    I closed my eyes, as if trying to ward my reflection away. I turned sideways and attempted to remove the bandage on my back myself. Once I got it off, I stared at the wounds and scrunched up my nose. It looked like a bad case of road rash, but deep, raw, and angry.
    I got in the shower and just leaned against the wall, letting the spray wash everything off of me.  They hadn’t allowed me to shower at the hospital, and I felt so dirty. I turned the temperature to as hot as I could stand before grabbing the washcloth and pouring an exaggerated amount of soap on it. Scrubbing my body raw, I took extra special care to scrub my breasts, neck, face, and between my legs.
    When the hot water was gone and my skin was a satisfying color of pink, I stepped out and wrapped myself in my soft robe. The reflection staring back at me looked better than it had before, but still made me want to break the mirror. I felt the lump forming in my throat and I looked away from the mirror, not wanting to see myself cry. I sank to the floor of the bathroom and slumped against the wall. Growing up with an older brother, I had learned that crying didn’t do any good and as a result I hardly ever cried. I decided that in the past twelve hours I had probably shed more tears than the previous ten years combined, and I was sick of it.
    Yesterday hadn’t been anything special; we had decided on a whim to go out. Sydney spent most weekends at the club, but Amanda and I didn’t go with her too often, so when she begged we finally gave in. I hadn’t really ever tried hard alcohol, and both girls were excited to introduce me to something other than wine. Apparently a college senior preferring wine over beer was very taboo.
    When Sydney had suggested going to Solid, I had been against it initially, knowing Solid had a reputation for being insanely busy, but the girls insisted I was being boring. So I’d let Amanda do my