d6 . cassius wells

c a s s i u s .

"you are young
and broken
covered in scars"

You find it easier to slip on the mask every morning when you get out of bed. Wearing it like armour made of paper. But you pretend it's made of steel and iron, forged in the fire that you grew from embers. The reality is much less stoic and far more breakable; they don’t need to know that. From the outside, they see indifference carried on an expressionless face, one that you’ve perfected through your own suffering.

In your nightmares, they can see beneath your facade, fingers tearing the mask away from your face as you frantically try to pull it back on. Beneath it all they see is deep scars, an aching pain radiating from the depths of your eyes as you wrap yourself in tears. It’s a trap. Breaking apart your paper armour and you watch as the world falls apart once more and you’re left behind, a shell of who you once knew.

You remember choking, fingers in your shoulders as they pressed your face into the fountain at the front of the school. The taste of stale water in your mouth and the feel of trembling fingers wrapped around iron wrists as you vainly fought to free yourself. Another held down your legs, knees feeling like they might snap as you used your remaining strength to desperately try and fight free from their hold. But you're weak, and always have been, it was one of the reasons why they chose you. The fear in your eyes from the moment they'd laid a hand on you had been enough to urge them onwards.

The agony in your lungs as water greeted you was the final straw and at that moment you gave up. Swallowed by the feeling of helplessness, as it washed over your body in one calm wave. Only then did the pain vanish, and only then did the bullies pull away. They tossed your frail body onto the cobblestone path, the sounds of their laughter taunting you as their steps faded into the distance.

With a gasp you greet the world once more, water spilling from your mouth as you throw up all over the ground in front of you. There’s a seed of disappointment buried within your chest as your nails dig into stone, part of you at peace with your end. And you cough again and again until your throat hurts as much as your lungs do. The world feels a little darker, dancing in shades of grey as you stare at the blue tint that stretches over the tips of your fingers.

It’s at this moment that you make your choice. The next time when the bullies come they find nothing, every strike they land met with a deep emptiness. They think you don’t care, that you’re unfazed by the cuts and bruises you spend the night nursing. But they never see it, you’re strong enough to stop the mask from slipping and it stops. Their taunts and fists fade from the world around you and slowly you’re no longer the target of their hate. You’re just another student, another face in the crowd.

There’s something to be said about the scars that are left behind from trauma. You find yours ugly and unyielding and it faces you in the mirror every day. Yet, you find comfort in your history, unafraid to wrap yourself in lies when you speak to others. There’s no point in trying to help anyone else, so when you see others being bullied you look away, dark gaze turning to the brighter things in life.

They didn’t need your help. Had anyone come and defended you when it was the other way around?

No. No one had.

Just as you had been, they were responsible for freeing themselves from those cages. When push comes to shove all you have is yourself. You cannot rely on others to be your strength because they’ll always disappoint you. It was easy to watch Scarlet Hyde walk into that party. Your eyes trailed after her, hands in pockets as you played out the scene in your head. It’d hurt, you thought, but it didn’t make you stronger helping her, all the other kids in that house would only see it as a weakness.

Perhaps, if you weren’t wearing your mask you might have called her name, tried to protect her. But you didn’t, rooted to the spot for a moment longer before you turned your back. The roar of laughter filling the evening air as you walked away.

Coward, the word follows you all the way back to your room.