Today is Patti Abbott's flash challenge day. Each writer had to use the phrase, "I really don't mind the scars." somewhere in their story. You can find links to all the stories over at Patti's blog. http://pattinase.blogspot.com/ Below is my story, actually more of a slice of life micro-flash piece.
I kept telling myself that I really didn't mind the scars, but deep down inside, yeah, I did mind. They were a brutal reminder of my cowardice. A billowing white flag of surrender proclaiming that I laid down my soul for a comfortable life.
So how did I get scars from living a comfortable life? I married a man with a good job, a man loved and admired by his friends and family. I accepted the flowers and thoughtful gifts that came after. After the promotion he expected went to that bitch the company hired to meet their minority quotas. After that drunk bastard, Lloyd, missed the 7 - 10 split that cost my husband's bowling team the league championship. After any one of a dozen every day moments when his temper flared and my body was the closest available release valve.
And the scars? They cradle my tears, my hopes, my dreams, and my failure to stand up for myself. Until today.
Today, the stitches laced down the length of my cheek are my personal badge of courage. Proof that the man I married wasn't that saintly person he put on display for the general public. They're my escape into an uncomfortable life where I can finally draw a free breath. Today I fly my flag of scars proudly, undeniable proof that I survived the domestic war that raged in the privacy of our marriage.