Scarred

Today was cold and rainy; the clouds are so thick they look like gray billows of smoke. It never rains this late in the summer season here in Pennsylvania, but then again, there is nothing normal about today. Malina gazed out of the window of her taxi through the jumbo-sized raindrops that trickled down. All she could think about was how she swore to herself that she would never come back to the city where she grew up, not ever. There is only one person alive, well now deceased, who could cause her to face the demons in this horrible place. Her godmother, Francine Cooper.
Malina Edwards spent 18 years of her life in Saddleback, PA. The only reason she was there for that long is that she had to be of age to leave. She was born to two loving parents who adored and treated her like a little princess. Her mother, Andrea, was a registered nurse at the local hospital. Her father, Martin, was a respiratory therapist at the same hospital, and that is how they met. It was love at first sight. They married within a year and had Malina shortly after. Her life was like a fairy tale. She had everything a little girl could want, the best birthdays, and Christmas was always so magical. Her mother, Andrea, gave the best gifts and made the best peanut butter cookies in the world.
Malina was only eight years old when her life changed forever, and an unimaginable tragedy happened to her family. Tears started to roll down her face as she recalled the day Francine picked her up from school. Francine was a dear friend of the family; she worked at the hospital with Andrea and Martin and had known Andrea since college days. Malina remembered seeing her walk into the school with her face soaked with tears and she was disheveled, like she had been in a fight. At that moment, she revealed to Malina that there had been a tragedy at the hospital. Some maniac went on a shooting spree, and both of Malina’s parents were killed in the process. Her father died trying to protect her mother, but he couldn’t. They were all she had, and growing up without them was incredibly hard. However, it would have been worse if it were not for her godmother, Francine. She stepped in and raised her like her own; she refused to allow the state to put Malina in a home.
Malina was not an easy child either; her parents’ death turned her into an emotionless zombie who didn’t care about anything. No amount of counseling or love could turn her around. By the time she was 13, she was skipping school, smoking weed every day, and hanging with the wrong crowd. Inside that crowd was a boy from the neighborhood named Jackson Lee. Jackson was a cute boy, tall for his age, and very popular. All the girls Malina’s age wanted to date him, but he liked Malina, and she liked him, and soon they were an item. All through high school, they were together. They even went to the prom together. On prom night, yet another tragedy would change Malina’s life. After the prom, Malina, Jackson, and some other friends decided to go to an after-party at someone’s house in another neighborhood.  Although none of them had ever been to this area, they figured it would be okay to hang out for a short time. They were wrong. In the backyard of the house, gunshots rang out. Malina remembered feeling something hot and burning in her stomach, then falling to the ground. She also remembers seeing Jackson running in the opposite direction and leaving her hurt, bleeding, and dying.
Malina woke up in the hospital, being told that the bullet’s exit wound went through her spine and she may be paralyzed. With Francine and the coward Jackson at her bedside, she remembered wishing she were dead. That was the last time she would see Jackson; he never came back, answered her calls anymore, and he just disappeared. In the meantime, Malina had weeks in the hospital to recover and even more weeks of learning how to walk again if that was possible. All while heartbroken and in a deep depression. Praying for the day to get the hell out of Saddleback or for her life to be over, whichever came first.
The taxicab came to a stop and brought her back to reality. She was in front of the house she last lived in with Francine. She just sat there for a moment and stared at the house, watching the other cars pull up, people coming in and out, some bringing food, some smoking cigarettes on the porch. They were all there to remember Francine. She was a good woman, and everyone loved her. And that’s when she thought she saw…no, that’s not. Yes, it was, Jackson Lee walking his mother up to the front door. Her heart jumped out of her chest. She felt fondness and excitement initially, then she remembered how many times she tried to kill herself because he left her, and she felt anger. It has been ten years. Ten years since she moved away, went to college, and started a new life, but not the life she had envisioned for herself.
Malina finally got herself out of the car and went around to the trunk to pull out her luggage. She saw Jackson Lee with a shocked look on his face when he saw her. He never knew that she was not, in fact, paralyzed. She had multiple surgeries and plenty of rehabilitation, and eventually she began to walk again and has been doing well ever since. Paralysis was an early diagnosis, but Jackson didn’t stick around to find out that there were specialists hell bent on saving her spine. They did just that. He was walking towards her, and she started to cringe. He proceeded to express his condolences to her on behalf of Francine and apologize for the things that happened years ago. She tuned him out and looked past him. She told him now was not the time; the only mother she knew, the only family she had left, was gone. She needed to grieve. She turned her back and walked away.
Two weeks later, Malina had finally finished getting all of Francine’s affairs in order. The house was sold, and her small sandwich shop was also shut down and sold. Francine would have liked it if Malina kept the house and ran the sandwich shop, but Malina could never live in Saddleback, not after everything she had been through there. Her flight was booked, and she was ready to get back to her life in Michigan. Before she left there for the last time, she had some unfinished business; she needed some closure. She needed to see Jackson Lee.
It was a sunny Saturday morning; she had reached out to Jackson earlier in the week, and he was more than eager to meet her for breakfast. She made sure she was well put together today. She wore a bright pink skirt suit, her skirt hit mid-thigh, and her cleavage was sitting at attention. The curls in her shoulder-length hair lay just right, and she smelled divine. Jackson loved what he saw; she could tell he still wanted her after all this time. Jackson apologized profusely for all the hurt he had caused, for leaving her in the backyard after she was shot, and for leaving her at the hospital. Jackson explained that he was a kid and didn’t know any better. He had been ashamed to try and contact her because so much time had passed. After his apologies, they talked like no time had passed at all.
Three months had quickly gone by, and they had been seeing each other in a long-distance relationship, spending all their free weekends together. It seemed to be getting serious, and it wasn’t long before Jackson confessed his love. He wanted to be with Malina long-term, admitting he should never have let her go. He went all out for this date to make this announcement. All the romantic things were in place: flowers, candlelight, and champagne, and Jackson was even more handsome in adulthood. It was perfect. Malina was overwhelmed with emotions; she had wanted this from Jackson for so long. Now it’s too late because this could never be. The only thing she wanted from Jackson Lee was for him to know the pain she would live with forever. She excused herself from the table to go to the restroom. Instead, she went out the door and got in the taxi she secretly ordered and left. Not just the restaurant, she left Saddleback, for real this time, and for good.
After a week of constant phone calls, emails, and text messages from Jackson, Malina decided to write him back:
“Dear Jackson, I want to thank you for the time we spent together these last few months. I realize this is exactly what I needed to completely let go of the trauma and pain you caused. I have tried therapy, praying, yoga, Buddha, and anything you can think of to find peace and to forgive. Unfortunately for you, none of that worked. But you know what is working, good old revenge. You see, Jackson, while I was fighting for my life after being shot, I received multiple blood transfusions. One of those transfusions was tainted. That’s right, Jackson, I have been living with HIV for the last ten years. Because of you, I will never have a family of my own.  If it wasn’t for you, I would never have been at that party and never have been shot. I know that you were the real target, the police told me. That is the reason you left: you were running for your life.  It was so easy to get you in bed, a little eye batting and some cleavage, and I had you. I hope these words are penetrating your soul in the worst way; I hope your heart is breaking. But most importantly, I hope you learn to wear condoms because Karma is a HIV positive, pink-skirt-wearing BITCH!”

THE END