[CONTENTID2]

{ The Forgotten S c a r }

I keep going, and it's the same scenery no matter how far I go

Like a weed growing anywhere, the scar survives in my heart...

T-ara Number 9

My N a m e Is Hers'

*italicized indicates the past 

►Aennrain is written as Aennrain

► Annerain is written as Anne

[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID1]SIX YEARS LATER

[ March, Year 2014 ] 

At a glance, she gives out the vibes of nondescriptness unto the public eyes’, but none of them would have guessed that she’s merely acting it out to conceal the hideous scar over her forehead, which almost look like the one that possessed by Harry Potter. The origin of that scar has remained a wonder till now but she's not keen enough to find it out because throughout these six years, she's perfectly fine without them – her memories.

Miss Cecilia, her aunt as well as her guardian is the only family member she has.

“There’s more in the present than yearning for the past. I love you so much, that’s all that matters. Let the past stay in the past. Move on, and let it go.”

‘Let it go’ she said, and it makes her reminisce over the soundtrack of Frozen ‘Let it Go’. Once in a while, music completes one’s soul, just like in her case. Every now and then, she registers in her mind that reminiscing is only for the weaker soul, or perhaps the melancholic ones and of course she doesn’t belong in those categories nor does she want to be amongst them. She's making a habit of reading a person's expression and categorized them into either one of the two: trust a little bit or pain in the . Oddly enough, people tend to view her as someone that’s naïve, innocent and reserve while inwardly, she’s nowhere close to that ideal. 

[ 2009 ]

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to force yourself to remember anything. We’ll just create our own memories from here onwards.”

In that moment of time, she notices that her aunt possesses one of the most beautiful eyes in the world and that she’s truly the only person who genuinely cares for her.

“Aunty, what about my father? Where is he?”

She only inquired about her father and it was instinctual. If her aunt ever queried why she only asked about him, she wouldn't know how to answer.

“Your father is watching over you from the heaven. He’s an honorable painter who traveled all over the world carrying the pride of his family. I’m proud to have him as my brother and now its you, sweetheart.”

They could hear the clock "tic tic tic" and a long pause afterwards. Both of them look at each other, their gazes conveying the preciousness of the opposite party to themselves. Miss Cecillia wants to touch the scar on her forehead but she swats her hand off and quickly cover it with one hand.

“Don’t... I can’t.” she shot a look at her.

Aunt Cecilia sighs sourly. “That scar, there’s only one thing you should remember.” she said.

“The scar is caused by trust. You trusted the wrong person and that led to misfortune. That evening, if you're not eager to go there…”

Aunt Cecilia yielded another pause. On a second thought, how could she reveal to her that shad had been actually kidnapped by a stranger? Almost and killed? She remembered every word that have been told by the inspector in charge of her case. That poor kid, it is the best that she had forgotten everything.

She gasps and her eyes grow wide. “Do.Not.Trust.Anyone. You hear me?“ she said with a sigh.

In that brink of time, a voice echoes inside of her head and a person's silhouette is flashed in front of her mind’s eye. It triggers something in her heart. A sort of feels that make her heart races and overwhelmes with insecurity.

“I trust...you”

She wonders if someone is in pain, is that how one's heart would suppose to feel? 

She knows that not only pain is there, there's something else. Each time she's about to reach that phase to figure it out, she stops. It hurts - why would she wants to push herself toward the extreme and inflict pain upon herself? That's not worth it. So, she let it be. Let the time decide what's best for her. All she ever wanted is to reborn as a brand new person, namely – Annerain (Anne). 

Anne slumps her body over and fixes her bangs. She's anxious that the wind would blow it away and expose it to others. It makes her stomach clenches like a fist by just thinking about it. That scar is a hurdle for her. A physical pain might be inflicted from a palpable scar but occult pain is triggered from the memories within it; it is invisible and no one else could ever feel the same way. 

She comes across a row of art classes and as usual, she tries to avoid eye contact with almost everyone that she encounters. Her pace has quickened when there’re lesser students around. She peeps at her watch and a frown has emerges on her face. The cream colored letter that’s in her grasps is tightened.

‘It’s all because of you, Nelson-ssi...’ her nostril flares as she’s musing on the repercussions of that person's silly attempt.

THREE HOURS AGO

Library,

Nothing comes out right for Anne that morning. At that particular moment, agony is written all over her face while anyone could easily point that out. About an hour and a half ago, she's in cloud nine when a letter from her on and off crush, Nelson is found in her drawer. Nevertheless, it only takes her five minutes to draw a conclusion that the letter is “not” meant for her, but it’s for another girl that possesses the similar name - Aennrain. It would be a sheer lie if she’s not shaken by the fact that her crush has taken into a liking with someone else but ironically she’s the one who receives the letter because of their names. Moreover, it's not just anyone - it's the person that she detests the most in the whole school. 

“Why must my name be like...hers?” she ruffles through her hair and groans inwardly.

She gawps at the letter on the table. “That’s my name idiot.” she murmurs. Her face crumbles as the image of that girl is flung into her mind and that another hiss escapes from .

“Huh...ugh! Still, I really don't want to meet her, can’t I? .”

She comes anyway, with all her might. When she’s convinced that no one is around, her expression turns darkly. She's gazing through the hallway to look for any trace of earthlings around.

“Heyya neighbor! Looking for someone?”

A groan has released via as the familiar voice reaches her ear. 

"Marvel.” she utters her name indifferently. It’s questionable that every time this particular girl pops out in front of her, an escalating sense of foreboding is fired up within her.

‘Why the heck is she here again...’ Marvel smiles lopsidedly. It’s definitely not the first time she spots her “lurking” around here. This area is supposed to be a reserve compartment only for the selected art students that participate in indoor as well as outdoor performances, like her for example. Being an infamous gossiper in Serenity Arts High School, this could be a good catch if she able to dig upon her fishy acts.

“Uh? A...letter?” A cream colored letter has catches her sight. “Mm, is that from you secret admire?” she asks with a smirk. “Gosh, and here I thought you’ll never able to get one till we graduate...” Her arms are pulled against her chest as she eye on her carefully.

“This?” Anne one brow while pinching on the letter, raising it up to the level of her face. “It’s a condolence letter.” She disputes her claims.

Her curt reply has susceptibly thins out Marvel's curiosity about the letter. “Oh...really?” she retorts and clearing out awkwardly. “Anyway, who are you looking for?”

Annerain drew her eyes together when she realizes that Marvel is deliberately shifts their topics. Unknowingly, she begins to study her every reaction. With that, she doesn't realize the girl’s incoming wrath toward her for supposedly giving off a cold shoulder.

“Yah! Anne-ssi...” Her voice skipping up an octave, stomping at her feet audaciously. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” A hiss is forced out from her lips but to no avail, that girl’s lips are sealed tightly by its owner. Marvel scoffs in disbelievingly.

“Forget it. You must be here to stalk at our Aennrain.”

Out of the blue, she brings out Aennrain and that basically yield a glint in Anne's eyes and in no time, her expression turns sullen. That sight of Anne has revived her from the mud of humiliation just a couple of minutes ago. She's excited to get her hands on her realms of social networking. This is turning out to be very amusing.

Anne sneers at her contemptuous accent. After all, Aennrain is just someone who bears the similar name as her. Although her heart is emitting a peculiar reaction every time her name is mentioned, it only lasts for brevity. As always, Marvel is just putting up a futile effort on her.

She raises an eyebrow. “The performance is around the corner, and so that’s why you’re despe