The Scarred Silence 2005
copyright @ April Martin
By: April Martin 2005
"Where were you last night?" Johnny asked, his gaze fixed on the fresh cuts on Lola's arm. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time he had to endure the pain of seeing her cut up and broken down. Her name was Lola. "What kind of name is Lola anyway?" she always said after having too many drinks. His eyes watched her closely, patiently waiting for an answer. She knew better than to meet his gaze, so she just sat there, smoking her cigarette, gazing out the window and feeling the warmth on her face. Her arms throbbed, but she would never admit that to anyone, not even Johnny.
For as long as she could remember, Lola felt as though she didn't belong in the rest of the world, never quite fitting in anywhere. She met Johnny three years ago through work. At the time, she was having an affair with her boss, thinking she was in love and that he was actually going to leave his wife of twelve years for her. It’s funny how naive one can be when blinded by beauty. Johnny, having nothing better to do with his time, would sit for hours listening to every word she said and wiping away every tear from her face. All the while, silently hating himself for falling in love with her.
Johnny's patience was limitless when it came to Lola. He watched her smoke, the light filtering through the window casting a soft glow on her face. The silence between them was heavy, filled with unsaid words and unresolved emotions. He knew she was hurting, but he also knew that pushing her for answers would only drive her further away.
Lola's thoughts drifted back to the night before. She had wandered the city streets, trying to numb the pain inside her. The bars and the strangers she met there offered temporary relief, but in the end, the emptiness always returned. The cutting was her way of coping, a release for the pain she couldn’t express. She knew it was destructive, but it was the only thing that seemed to make the numbness go away, if only for a moment.
Johnny sighed, breaking the silence. "Lola, you can't keep doing this to yourself," he said softly. "You deserve better."
She exhaled a plume of smoke and turned to look at him, her eyes finally meeting his. There was a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze, a silent plea for help. But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar defiance.
"I don’t deserve anything, Johnny," she replied, her voice flat. "This is just who I am."
"No," Johnny said firmly, leaning forward. "It's not who you are. It's just what you're going through right now. And you don’t have to go through it alone."
Lola looked at him, seeing the genuine concern and love in his eyes. She wanted to believe him, to let him in, but the walls she had built around her heart were too high. She took one last drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
"Maybe someday, Johnny," she said, standing up. "But not today."
Johnny watched her walk away, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. He wanted to save her, to show her that she was worth more than the pain she inflicted on herself. But he knew that until she believed it herself, there was little he could do.
Lola walked out of the room, leaving Johnny alone with his thoughts. He vowed to be there for her, to keep fighting for her even when she couldn't fight for herself. Because deep down, he knew that beneath the scars and the pain, there was a woman worth saving. And he wouldn’t give up on her, not now, not ever.