These people belong to someone else, I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Don't worry, they will be returned in as close to their original condition
as possible.

Scars

        It was war.  The two combatants were locked so close together that
every time one moved, it was accompanied by a sick sound as the sweat
rubbed between the two of them.  Actually, it was more guerrilla combat
than an actual war.  No winners, no losers.  But it had to end all too
soon.
        The lovers eventually parted, exhausted from their horizontal
acrobatics.  Even though this was only their third time together, they'd
already learned a lot about each other.  But not everything.
        She looked at him with glassy eyes, wondering how she got into the
situation, and more importantly, whether or not to keep it up.
        He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, from just under his
eyelids.  He wondered how long this relationship would last, how long he
could make it last without the others knowing.  She didn't want to be seen
with him in public, but that was fine with him; he's willing to play the
game according to her rules.
        She was propped up against the headboard, he was lying down on his
stomach, head cradled in his arms.  One of the biggest mistakes of his
life.
        "I've asked you a thousand times: how did you get these scars?" she
asked in reference to the multitude of fine, faded white seams on his back.
"They cover your whole body, it seems."  It was a few moments before he
answered.
        "I made one mistake too many," he replied with his deep voice.
Even though she would never admit it to anyone, not even herself, his voice
has thrilled her since they first met.
        "Come on, you don't expect me to believe that, do you?  I've told
you all about my scars; this one is from when I fell on the railing in PE
class, this from talking with my sister at a bad time, and this was from an
appendicitis.  So what about yours?"
        "Just leave it alone!" he yelled.
        "Fine, if it'll make you feel better!" she answered back, yelling
as well.  He looked into her eyes and saw a fire in there that he was
envious of.  He knew that he could never be like her.  She was always
willing to put her cards on the table, and take what she could.  She never
complained about not having been dealt a better hand.
        She looked back into his eyes and saw an icy control reflected back
at her that she never knew was there.  She couldn't understand this sudden
change in him.  It seemed that ever since that party, he'd become a whole
new man.  He doesn't even talk the same way he did before.  She wished she
could have that sort of control.  It would make her life so much easier,
especially with her family.  God, they could be so annoying, it made her
sick.  She briefly wondered if that was why she was with this man lying
beside her, but then discarded it.
        She knew that she was there because she wanted to be.  She looked
down at him, but he'd put his head down and looked like he was sleeping.
So she started to stand up and put a robe on, but was stopped by his voice.
        "It started years ago," he said, but the pain was fighting against
his control.  "It was just after my mother's suicide, and I think he just
couldn't handle it.  That woman was more than just his wife, she was his
very soul, his only reason for existing.  When she was suddenly gone, he
didn't know what to do.  And so it started," he said, his voice cracking
with hidden pain.
        "And what started?  Actually, now that I think about it, this scar
here looks like it was made by a belt buckle.  But that couldn't be true,
could it?" She asked, but then got one look at his face, partially covered
by his pillow.  "It is true?" she asked with worry.
        "Yes, it's true," he answered.  "And that one too, and that one,
and the next, no, that one was made by a belt," he answered as she put her
hand to various scars.  When she put her finger on one in particular, he
got a small smile on his face.  "That one is from a vase."
        "Vase?"
        "He threw it at me from across the room," he explained.
        "How can you be so calm about something like this?  My, god!  We
have to tell someone!" she blurted before she could stop herself.  If she
was expecting an explosion on his part, she was to be disappointed.  He
slowly cocked his head so he could look at her without lifting his head.
He opened his eyes and she saw..something in there, but it made her feel
weird.  He just looked at her, and the feeling escalated.  It got to the
point where she almost thought she was going to have to lay down.  But then
he opened his mouth.
        "I've played this game your way: not being seen in public together,
etc.  Now I have something to ask of you, never tell anyone about what
you've heard now.  Is that asking too much?"  She shook her head no, and
then each fell silent with their own thoughts.
        "How long did it last?"
        "'Till he left for Hawaii.  I'd doubt if he even remembers us."
        "And what about your sister?  Does she have any scars?" she asked
after a while.  When he didn't answer she looked down at him.  Feeling her
eyes starting at the side of his head, he knew he had to tell her
something.
        "I don't know," he replied, knowing full well that he did.  She
seemed to accept it, but he wasn't really paying any attention anymore.
His mind was going back to the past.  He remembered the beatings his father
gave him.  He remembered running up to his room, tears in his eyes after it
was done.  He remember drifting off to sleep, but then waking up when he
heard his father walk up the stairs to where the rooms were.
        He took an involuntary shudder when he remembered creeping out of
his room, trying to remain as silent as possible.  The shudder increased
when he remembered seeing his father walk up to his sister's door, walking
in with out announcing himself or knocking, and then shutting the door
behind himself.
        The shudder turned into a tremble when he remembered the strange
noises soon coming from the room.  He remembered his sister crying out in
what seemed to be pain.
        The tremble turned to tears when he remembered realising what was
going on.  He remembered running back to his room, only to put his head
under the pillow, hoping his father would never come to his door.  He
remembered thinking that maybe it was his fault that this had happened to
his sister, that because he ran away from his father, the man had taken out
his anger on his sister.  He remembered holding his ground the next time,
not running away until much later than before, but he still ran.  It didn't
change a thing.  His father still went up to his sister's room.  So the
next time, he lasted even longer, and longer the next time, and longer
still the time after that, until he was not running at all.  His father
eventually had to stop because he was too tired.
        But it was all for nothing.  His father didn't stop going up to his
sister's room; sometimes staying for hours.
        The tears increased when he remembered the scene of his father in
his sister's room repeating itself two, three times a week until his father
left for Hawaii and never looked back.
        She looked down at the man in lying beside her.  She was undecided
about what to do.  She knew that she had to do _something_.  She thought
about going to the police about this, but decided to uphold her promise to
him.  She was shocked about what she'd just learned about him that she was
speechless.  Her mouth worked up and down a few times, but no words came
out.  She just didn't know what to say, or, even if she did, how to say it.
        "Don't bother trying, it'll get you nowhere fast," he murmured.
        "Huh?"
        "I can hear the gears of your brain turning from here.  They're
working overtime and it's all for naught.  Forget about it, it's nothing."
        "Nothing!  Are you nuts?" she shouted, and then saw the look of
pain on his face, the tears, the tremors and shudders, and knew that he was
dealing with it.  "Nothing," she repeated.  "You've got some real problems,
Tatewaki."
        "Yeah?  Well, we all have our problems, now don't we, Nabiki?"
        "What are some of your other ones then?"
        "I'm horny again."
        "Thank god!" she shouted.

end

Cory Holmes
gholmes@rodeo.sd27.bc.ca