the scar

She was obsessed with the tiny scar above her left eye.  It was unnoticeable to most, but not her.  The flawed skin, just a shade lighter than the rest of her face, served as a constant reminder.  A reminder of things she’d rather forget.  

He charmed her from the moment they met.  He was sweet and funny and he seemed to adore her.  It didn’t take long for her to realize it was all a facade.  She remembers the first time he hit her.  It was after the homecoming game and his friends were giving him a hard time about his fumble during the third quarter.  Their teasing was all in fun.  She laughed.  Later that night, they got in the car so he could take her home.  She didn’t even have her seat belt on before she felt it.  At first, she was stunned, not sure exactly what had happened.  Then she heard him.  Words like “how dare you” and “you made me look stupid” swam around her clouded mind.  “I’m sorry” only made it to the tip of her tongue before she felt the second blow.  Later, he would ask her why she made him act like that.  After all, it was her fault for laughing in the first place.

The scar reminded her of every time.  Every time she didn’t say the right thing, every time she “embarrassed” him in front of his friends, every time she wore too much or not enough makeup.  She remembered when her dress was too short, her jeans too tight and her heels too high.  She remembered.  

She remembered the last time.  That was the time he gave her the tiny reminder above her left eye.  He didn’t give her a reason. He hit her and walked away without any explanation. That was when she decided it would be the last time.  

She is obsessed with the tiny scar above her left eye.  It serves as a constant reminder.  A reminder that she is a survivor.


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