Crescent Scars

The clock was moving too slowly again. Damn Economics lectures.

I looked up to see the professor speaking energetically in front. ‘He must be new,’ I thought, as my eyes wandered towards the pretty little goth girl, who was leaning on her desk.

That’s when I saw it at the back of goth girl’s neck. It was a moon-shaped scar that quickly disappeared out of view when she pulled up her black jacket.

I pondered over it a little bit. From what I had seen, it was thumb-sized and smooth, sort of like it was made on purpose with a sharp knife. I took up my pen and started drawing it in the margins of my notebook, another doodle among the silly doodles the artist in me came up with during these times of missed mental stimulation.

Not happy with my work, I looked towards goth girl’s way in hopes of seeing the scar again, but braid girl beside her blocked my view. That’s when I noticed it: the exact same moon-shaped scar at braid girl’s neck. It was faint, but exactly the same as goth girl’s.

Braid girl then turned to me, and before I could do anything, she brought a finger to her lips as if to hush me and turned to face the yakking professor in front.

Shrugging, I looked back at my drawing, and saw that I had unintentionally added details to my drawing in the meantime. I started with a crescent, but added a few dark, curving lines to it. My pen really does wander sometimes.

I looked towards my friend next to me to show him my magnificent work of art, when I noticed that he had the same subtle scar below his right ear. He gave me a small smile and nodded towards the front.

I turned to the direction he suggested and saw that, two rows ahead of me, bright red drops were forming at the back of the new girl, the one with the beret. She didn’t seem to notice it at first. I stared at her as I felt my pen dance across the page, drawing another crescent in my already doodle-filled page.

Beret girl soon let out a little cry and reached out to her now bloody nape. She looked horrified upon seeing the red on her fingers, and the girl beside her (her scar was under the left ear lobe) handed her some tissues and held her other hand for comfort.

Just then, the bell rang, and everyone started getting up, save for a few who hurriedly ran out of the room. As I slid my notebook into my bag, the ones who stayed formed a circle around me and pushed the sobbing beret girl towards my table.

In low rumbles, they started chanting in the ancient tongue and laid the bleeding girl’s head on my desk. The crescent was highly visible amidst the sea of blood.

I sighed and shook my head. Oh boy, what did I get myself into this time? I really need to stop doodling in class.

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Image source: flickr.com/photos/82954612@N00/4969456090
First written October 10, 2017.
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