His Scar
Sip me slowly, like a bitter and vital drink.
—F.
Part 1
Prologue
I never thought I was handsome. Not even before the car accident. But now I can’t look at my reflection in the mirror.
My friends say it isn’t a big deal, it’s just a scar. True, it is, but it changed me permanently. There is this large, long, indented, dark pink, gross line across my cheekbone. It ends above my upper lip and looks like a damn highway to me. The skin around it is wrinkled and stained. I’m twenty-five and my skin looks old.
I let my hair grow long so my face is partially covered, but the scar is still too obvious. My face is still too obvious. Every time someone looks at me, I just hope my eyes are distracting enough, so they won’t notice the rest. I’ve been told my eyes are so blue they look
