「故事·听力」My Face Is Covered In Scars
My Face Is Covered In Scars But I Turned It To My Strength
I'm Lissa. I am fifteen years old and as you can see, I already have a lot of life in my years. And if you want to know how it all got that bad and how it influenced my path in life, stay with me.
It happened many years ago, when I was really little. There was a gas explosion in my parents' friends' house and I happened to be standing nearby. I can hardly remember that day actually, but I have to look at the consequences in the mirror every single day. My mother has always tried to encourage me, saying: “Everyone will like you for who you are inside, be sweet and nice to people, and they will love you!"" Of course, I used to have some problems at school because of the situation with my face when I was a child, but everything got much worse when I became a teenager.
All my friends at school started to care about their appearance. They'd talk about make-up, dresses, and boys. Somebody was even dating a guy! All of those things were absolutely impossible for me. I was so jealous and devastated that I just couldn't even smile or pretend to be happy for my girlfriends anymore. We totally lost touch and a little later I found myself all alone. I still put on my "lovely" smile when I was at home, so that my parents would keep on thinking that I was doing just fine.
It seemed like there was nobody in the world who could share my grief, but then I noticed Simon, a guy from another class. He had a big scar on his face, just like Lion the King! But he didn't seem to worry about it at all! He was always totally positive and self-confident. "That's a person who's right for me, we're so similar!" I thought. He didn't know me, so I tried my best to make small talk with him and he was even pretty nice to me at first, but... in actuality, not very interested. But I was blindly in love and kept on trying. At some point I was being too annoying and he just exploded. He said he would never ever date me under any circumstances and asked me to leave him alone.
I was so shocked and broken, that I felt like I had gotten another scar, but on my heart. It turned out that my mother's “Be nice"" system wasn't really working anymore so it was high time to change something. I started with my outfits. Goodbye, fancy dresses - hello rock shirts and biker jackets. No more cute smiles and “Of course, I will help you out with your test" situations. This good girl had gone bad! My classmates and ex-friends were shocked, but there were some guys who were impressed, though some people might think they were not the best choice of company. Frankly speaking, my new friends were mostly roughed-up hooligans, but they accepted me... they all had their own scars.
We hung out after school and did a lot of fun stuff. We skipped classes together, made fun of other students, and we were lucky not to be caught red-handed. I had a spotless reputation, so I didn't have any problem getting my teachers believe my excuses.
As time passed, I became the gang leader and I appreciated my new status a lot.
Once, one of my friends showed up completely covered with bruises. It turned out, that he had gotten into a fight with guess who? Simon and his friends. It didn't take me long to make a decision. My desire for revenge outweighed any school rules.
I knew that Simon loved basketball. He was one the best players at school and we could see him practicing on the school courts every day, getting ready for an extremely important upcoming game.
On the day of the game, we ambushed Simon in the restroom and locked him in the closet. That was the worst thing we could do to him, but not just him actually. Our team lost that game and you can bet that all the players, students, and teachers were furious when they found out who was responsible for all of this. Of course Simon gave us away.
But that was not the worst. All of our parents got an unpleasant call that evening and they were called into school. My parents were stunned, they didn't have the slightest idea that their little girl was turning more into the school bully every time she left home.
It was deadly silent in the car when my parents and I were on our way back from the principal's office. Later that evening my mom came into my room and tried to talk to me. She didn't seem angry at all, but more confused than anything else. She suggested going to a therapist. I didn't say a word. After she left my room, I burst into tears. Now my mother saw me as a monster, like everyone else.
The fun was over. My friends and I were not allowed to spend time together on our breaks anymore. Our teachers were tracking our every move. And again, I was left all alone with my inner world that my mom was so sure everybody would love.
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