Part 2My Online Crush Is The Hockey Star in School, But I Ghosted Him

When I got back to my dorm, my roommate, Chloe Miller, was just about to leave.

She saw my face and scoffed, "Scarlett, you can put on all the makeup you want, but you can't hide that scar. It's so uneven. You might as well just show it off."

When we first started college, Chloe had acted shocked when she saw my scar, asking about its cause and even offering comfort.

At the time, I thought she was a good person. I even thanked her, explaining that I'd gotten used to the scar over the years, that makeup covered a lot of it, and that I didn't care.

I usually went out with makeup on. While it couldn't completely hide the scar, you wouldn't notice it unless you looked closely.

But later, she brought it up repeatedly and inappropriately, especially in front of newly met guys.

"She was slashed by some thugs when she was a kid. Scarlett is so pitiful," Chloe would say, looking at me with pity.

The result was that everyone in the department knew about my scar.

I told her I didn't like it, but after she apologized, she'd bring it up again eventually.

"Oops, I didn't mean to," she'd say, grasping my hand.

I got annoyed and started avoiding spending time with her.

One time, I was just about to enter the dorm when I heard her whispering to our other roommates.

"That scar on Scarlett's face, it's so terrifying. When school started, it scared me so much I couldn't sleep at night."

I pushed the door open. "If you can't sleep, why don't you apply to switch dorms?"

From then on, our relationship plummeted to an all-time low. We barely spoke in the dorm, except when she occasionally sniped at me about my scar.

I never told her about my online romance.

"None of your business. Mind your own," I usually wouldn't respond to her, but today I was in a bad mood, so I snapped back.

Chloe raised an eyebrow, seeing me retort. "Oh, can't take a few words? You used to say you didn't care."

I looked at Chloe, who was wearing a full face of makeup, and said coolly, "You like my scar so much, why don't you get a couple for yourself?"

Chloe stopped talking, glared at me, and left the dorm.

I walked into the bathroom to remove my makeup.

After washing my face, I looked up at myself in the mirror. Two deep scars etched my face: one stretched from below my right eye across my entire cheek, and another on my forehead, extending from the right side of my forehead to my temple.

The scars were from when I was in second grade, cut by a bad guy.

On my way home from school, I saw a kid, about my age, being pushed into an alley by some older guys.

They were shaking him down for money, then they threw him to the ground and started kicking and punching him.

Probably influenced by the martial arts dramas often on TV back then, I rushed in to stop them. During the scuffle, I felt a sharp pain in my face, and then my face went numb.

The bad guys all ran off, leaving blood all over the ground. The kid was terrified, frozen solid.

Eventually, I was taken to the hospital.

My mom cried and yelled at me for being nosy, while my dad chain-smoked.

The bad guys were caught and sent to juvenile detention.

But from then on, I was disfigured.