"Cherrie?" 

 

I looked up to see the new kid standing before me.

 

"That's me," I said, not exactly willing to talk to this bubbly extrovert.

 

"I just wanted to tell you that you're really beautiful." he smiled, flustered.

 

I was taken aback by his words. They were so sincere and that terrified me. I was not beautiful. I made a point of covering my arms in these scars to let people see how ugly I really am. And yet here this idiot was, smiling at me dopily, saying I was beautiful.

 

And here we are, after three years. Senior year is coming to a close now along with my days of high school. Henry remained my only friend with his twisted perception of me being beautiful. He was the only one there for me through everything. Whenever I wanted to scream, he would take me somewhere private and scream with me. Whenever I wanted to turn to my old habits, he would remind me that I was beautiful-- inside and out. He told me that I was hiding my looks behind the scars as I told myself I was ugly. Maybe one day, he'll be right. Not today, but one day. Because moments like this never last and I want to hold onto it for as long as I can.