Open Ended

Her sleeve tugs at her arm as she reaches out the window, sliding up just the slightest. He sees the scabs. The blood hadn’t dried that long ago. Lots of little cuts cover the skin just exposed. He notices. It registers instantly in his head. She notices as he does and quickly drops the change in his hand and shuts the drive thru window. She turns away from the window, while pulling her sleeve down. She gets mad at herself for letting someone see. Her mood is instantly compromised further. He drives away, there was nothing else he could do. He felt guilty, he had been there before. Placing them in not noticeable places, even using make up to hide them. His fiancee is sitting at home, thinking about adding more scars to her own body as he tells her about the girl. He said he felt guilty. She wonders, why hadn’t he said anything about the growing number of scars on her body? She feels hurt he doesn’t notice. Someone else calls him and she agrees to let him go. Now she is alone, staring at the blank pages of her skin. He answers the phone. With the inability to concentrate on the conversation. His girlfriend hadn’t sounded as good as she was earlier. He worried. The thoughts began to creep up on him again. His defenses went up. His emotions were now being faked. She picks up ones of the dozens of journals she has and begins to write to distract herself. A small story, characters, creating thoughts. Looking back over her words, hating the strokes of her pen. That she would never be anyone in the world. There were plenty of writers out there that had better potential than she did. She had been reading a lot of books lately and that only supported her despair. She would finish the small story and leave it open ended like all the rest of her work.