CHAPTER 11: THE SCAR
1400 Words
VESPER'S POV
I don’t talk about Aunt Livia.
Ever.
But on December 3rd, I had to.
Because Elias saw it.
December 3rd.
6:00PM.
He came early. 5:50PM.
I was repotting. Shirt sleeves up.
He stopped at the door.
“Vesper.”
“What?”
“Your back.”
I froze.
My shirt had ridden up.
Old shirt. Thin.
“You can see it,” I said.
“Yes.”
I pulled it down. Fast.
“Sit,” he said.
“No.”
“Vesper.”
“I said no.”
He didn’t move.
“Who did that to you?”
“No one.”
“Lies leave scars,” he said. “Yours are white.”
I turned.
Slow.
“Don’t,” I said.
“I’m not touching.”
“Then leave.”
“I won’t.”
We stared.
At 6:05PM, I sat.
On the floor.
Back to him.
“I’m not looking,” he said.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know.”
I pulled up my shirt.
Just enough.
Three lines.
Across my shoulder blades.
Old. White. Thin.
“Aunt Livia,” I said.
He didn’t speak.
“Not her hands,” I said. “A belt. Wooden. She said it was discipline.”
My voice didn’t shake.
That was the worst part.
“She died when I was 17,” I said. “Heart attack. Alone. Like me.”
“Vesper—”
“Don’t say sorry.”
“Okay.”
I pulled my shirt down.
Turned.
“Now you know,” I said. “So leave.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because scars aren’t a reason to go,” he said. “They’re a reason to stay.”
I laughed. Bitter. “That’s something people say.”
“It’s something I mean.”
December 4th.
I didn’t open at 9AM.
I opened at 11AM.
High collar. Gloves.
Even inside.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He looked at me.
Didn’t say anything about yesterday.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
We worked.
In silence.
At 7PM, he left.
No kiss. No touch.
Good.
December 5th.
Maren came.
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “Elias looked like someone died yesterday.”
I didn’t answer.
“Did he see it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Some.”
“Good,” she said. “You can’t bleed alone forever, Ves.”
“I can try.”
“Don’t.”
December 6th.
6:00PM.
Elias came.
With a shirt.
Black. Long sleeve. Soft.
“For you,” he said.
“I don’t need—”
“It’s not for your scars,” he said. “It’s for winter.”
I took it.
Because it was cold.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He sat.
Further than usual.
I noticed.
“Why are you far?” I asked.
“Because you are,” he said.
I nodded.
“Good.”
December 7th.
I wore the shirt.
He noticed.
Didn’t comment.
We pruned.
At 7PM, he said, “Vesper.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not Aunt Livia.”
“I know.”
“I won’t hit you.”
“I know.”
“I won’t leave you.”
I stopped.
“Don’t promise that.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m telling you.”
December 8th.
It snowed hard.
The shop was cold.
I was cold.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He sat next to me.
Not far.
Next.
He didn’t touch me.
He just sat.
Warm.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I?”
He lifted his hand.
Slow.
I didn’t move.
He put it on my shoulder.
Over the shirt.
Over the scars.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For not running.”
December 9th.
I told him more.
Not because he asked.
Because I wanted to.
“She found me at 9,” I said. “After my parents died. Car crash.”
Elias nodded.
“She didn’t want me,” I said. “She wanted the money. Their insurance.”
“Vesper.”
“She spent it,” I said. “On men. On pills. On me.”
I picked up shears.
Cut a stem.
Hard.
“She said I was ugly,” I said. “Like my roses. Black. Wrong. Dead.”
Elias took the shears from me.
Gently.
“She was wrong,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I see you.”
December 10th.
I had a panic attack.
At 3PM.
No reason.
Just air. Too much air.
I locked the shop.
Hid in the greenhouse.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
The door was locked.
“Vesper?”
No answer.
He didn’t leave.
He sat outside.
For an hour.
At 7:05PM, I opened.
“You’re still here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you might need me at 7:06.”
I cried.
He didn’t hug me.
He handed me a blanket.
We sat.
December 11th.
I was better.
Not okay. Better.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He had tea.
Real tea. Not mine.
From the cafe.
“Drink,” he said.
I did.
It was warm.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We sat.
Closer now.
December 12th.
Maren said, “You told him?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Good,” she said. “Now let him stay.”
“I am.”
“Then stop wearing gloves inside.”
I did.
December 13th.
6:00PM.
Elias came.
No gloves. No high collar.
Just me.
He looked at my hands.
Bare. Scarred. Soil under nails.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
He took my hand.
Pressed his thumb to my palm.
Not my scars.
Me.
December 14th.
I dreamed of Aunt Livia.
She was yelling.
“Ugly. Black. Dead.”
I woke up screaming.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He saw my eyes.
“Nightmare?”
“Yes.”
“About her?”
“Yes.”
He sat on the floor.
Patted it.
“Sit.”
I did.
He didn’t touch.
He just stayed.
Until I stopped shaking.
December 15th.
I told him the last part.
“The day she died,” I said. “I didn’t cry.”
“Okay.”
“I felt free.”
“Okay.”
“I felt guilty.”
“Okay.”
“I’m still guilty.”
Elias looked at me.
“You were a child,” he said. “You were supposed to be safe.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know,” he said. “But you are now.”
December 16th.
I believed him.
A little.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He brought nothing.
He just sat.
I leaned on him.
Not much.
Just my shoulder.
He didn’t move.
December 17th.
Maren said, “You’re different.”
“How?”
“Softer.”
“I hate you.”
“I know,” she said. “But he’s good for you.”
“He’s not mine.”
“Not yet,” she said. “But he’s not leaving.”
December 18th.
6:00PM.
Elias came.
He had a box.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Open it.”
Inside was a necklace.
Thin. Silver.
A small black rose pendant.
“For the scars,” he said. “Not to hide them. To name them.”
I put it on.
It sat right over my heart.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He kissed my forehead.
Not my lips.
My forehead.
December 19th.
I looked in the mirror.
Black shirt.
Silver rose.
Scars underneath.
I didn’t look ugly.
I looked lived in.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He saw me.
Really saw me.
“Hi, Vesper.”
“Hi, Elias.”
We sat.
No distance.
No fear.
Just us.
December 20th.
I said it.
“Elias.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for staying.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m saying it anyway.”
He nodded.
“Then you’re welcome.”
The scars were still there.
But they didn’t hurt as much.
Because I wasn’t hiding them anymore.
*END OF CHAPTER 11*
- Writer
