Scar Memories

It had been a long, long day.

She sat by the tub and turned on the shower. The ice cold water soon turned warm under her fingertips as a bright red trail snaked its way down the drain. She smiled and stood up.

Yawning, she shed her clothes carefully, gingerly. Off went her black coat, with its still damp, dark stain. Then came the blood-stained forest green shirt, the torn, muddy jeans, the knife that was not hers, and her favorite cotton underwear. She stretched her arms up and removed her scrunchie, making her long, heavy tresses fall to her face. She laughed to herself and stepped in the tub.

She stood for a full minute under the cascade and closed her eyes. The warm water felt good on her body, and she was happy that she begged the Mistress to set it up for her when she came to this place. It was worth it.

She brushed her hair to one side and reached out for the soap. She started lathering herself up when she felt the familiar outline of a long-faded scar. Dropping the bar, she slowly traced the former wound that ran from her left shoulder to just under her right breast.

At the touch, she was flooded with old memories. Her parents’ bloodied corpses on the floor, their killer’s evil grin as he marked her with his blade, the pity in the eyes of the Mistress as they brought her in.

She looked down to see its dark mark on her pale skin, and a slow, menacing smile appeared on her lips. Fresh images came up in her mind, as she gleefully considered the events that happened that morning: the blade, the forest, the Mistress, the head of her parents’ killer tumbling in the dirt.

She stared at the water pouring from the shower and enjoyed its gentle rain on her body. She shivered in delight.

–

For Jules.
–
Image source: deviantart.com/melancolia-neroli/art/kafka-on-the-shore-111377482
First written January 29, 2018.
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