Days bleed into nights and nights shift into days but my ache does not abate. For the first few days of this incident, I sealed my lips and locked my doors, almost certain that those boys would return. A little thought that budded inside me, and made me cringe, was not wanting to see Adriana. Even though I longed to see her, I actually harbored the idea of not meeting her because I was positive that no woman would want a coward for a boyfriend, specifically a headstrong and courageous woman such as Adriana.
I was afraid that she would find the truth and see the loopholes in my personality; craters of discourage that were never filled with any tales of bravery and flaws that had no equivalent strengths worth the praise. For a couple of days, I was successful until now. Adriana sits in front of me, having come to my place for a number of times but left because I feared that the knock could have been from one of those bullies.
She is somewhat perplexed with all the marks that she is seeing on me and the words that came out of me only after she coaxed them out with her consistent urging. Her eyes hold a million questions that beg to be asked but find no outlet through her sealed, pink lips. I think I can almost see sympathy in her emerald green eyes but I am not sure. The only thing that seems certain and about to arise, at the drop of a hat, is displeasure that will soon pierce through those eyes that I love to stare into.
As I wait uncertainly for her reaction, my eyes run along her flawless skin, searching for any scars. This past event has brought a litter of ugly scars on my face, another sign for the town to see that I have been through something lately. This town hasn’t really ever been able to keep any secrets due to this. Any trauma, fear, or accident leaves its mark on the body, which is how everyone can read what happened or, in the least, something happened. But Adriana’s skin is smooth; free from any blemishes.
There is an old legend that rings through this town that witches are the only creatures that show no scars of their suffering. Some say that such women sacrifice the owls to drink their blood on a lunar eclipse to fade the scars. Others say that these witches know some herbs and balms to heal their skin. They also say that it was this treasure of healing that cost the witches their lives. In a fit of rage, the villagers hunted down the witches to know their secret but they never revealed it and so they were hung to death on the eve of the red moon. Now there are only a few witches left who live in isolation and hiding.
But I have never asked Adrian. Although she covers her face mostly except when she is with me but I can never associate her with being a witch. She is too kind to be one or maybe my mind only depicts such creatures as negative. I appreciate that she trusts me enough to show me her raw skin so I have never asked. Who am to ask when she accepts a fool like me?
