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Bella
Forks High School.
It was the start of my senior year in high school, and I'd never stepped foot in this place. My last rendezvous with school was Forks Middle, and God knows that worked out great.
Nervously, I trace the bulbous scars on my right arm as I approach the unimpressive, yet still intimidating building. After four years, it was difficult to imagine my life before the mental, emotional, and physical scars. Zoloft didn't help, Prozac didn't help…yet somehow, I'm better.
I struggle to remember the mindset of eighth grade Izzy Swan. What was wrong with her that she felt the only way to survive her life was to end it?
On the outside, her life wasn't so bad. Step-dad (real dad) Charlie made a decent amount of money. Mom was a housewife. Izzy had her own room, away from the tiresome half-sibs. Her house had a family room and a living room. There were two bathrooms for the family of five to share, and no one had to pee that much, so Izzy had the upstairs bathroom essentially to herself. The family had two cars, one of which was promised to Izzy when she got her license. Izzy had a small but close-knit group of friends that all lived within a block of each other, available to hang out whenever the desire arose. Izzy's parents shared a beach house with her step-dads extended family in L.A.
But as with any good life, shadowy tendrils hid in the corners. Charlie and Renee fought a lot about stupid things. (They were still best friends.) Izzy's was terrible at math. (She excelled in English). Izzy was ugly. (Mom always said she had pretty eyes and nice cheekbones.)
Izzy wasn't strong enough to take these tendrils by the tails and conquer them. Izzy was mentally damaged.
The only connection I share with Izzy Swan are the long, twisting, bumpy, labyrinthine markings on my inner wrists. Skin grafting only goes so far.
I push my chemically straightened brown hair away from my face and trudge to the building. These students will remember me as Izzy Swan. They'll want to catch a glimpse of the macaroni-like marks she left on my arms. I don't have the benefit of being an actual new girl, able to start over and become whoever she wants to be.
I am defined by Izzy Swan.