The invisible scar – #BlogBattle

“Why can I not reach you? Why are you closing yourself off to me?” he asked.

“I am sorry, I don’t want to be this cold towards you.” she replied with a fragile voice.

“Where has all your strength gone? I see you as such a strong …” his words trailed off, as he saw the dark clouds gathering in her eyes.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered in her ear: “when you are ready, I will be there to listen”.

She lowered her head, and nodded, relieved that he didn’t press on with his questions, questions to which she knew no answers.

He knew she was the one. He had never seen a person so beautiful. Her face was perfectly shaped, almost symmetric like a porcelain doll’s. Her body was slender and tall. He knew that looks were not everything, but he knew that she was beautiful on the inside too. Always kind to everyone, helpful and charitable.

Why was she suddenly so sad? Why did his kiss at the end of the date lead to tears? All he could hope for now was that she would want to see him again. He wasn’t sure.

She ran the comb through her black hair. A silent tear slithered down her cheek. Even though she was not smiling it seemed as if her spotless reflection was smiling back at her from the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, why are we always in search of beauty?” she asked.

Instead of an answer, her phone lit up, on the screen it read, “hey beautiful! will u c me again??”

Even though she did not want to be defined by her obvious beauty, she texted back with a positive reply, “yeah, just don’t call me beautiful”. After all he had opened something up inside, he had started to edge closer to the answers she was yearning to find.

“yeah, just don’t call me beautiful” her answer read. She had replied quicker than he had thought. The questions that had been torturing him all night, started to answer themselves. It was her beauty that made her feel uncomfortable. But why so? Everyone was always searching for more beauty…

There she was, sitting in a blue dress on a park bench, her face hidden by a book.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked and was pleasantly greeted with a smile.

“Tell me, do you think that you will accept my love one day?”

“Don’t you think that you are a bit direct?”

“Maybe”, he took a deep breath before going on. “What is is that hurts you? What is it that keeps you from being happy?”

She looked at her feet, she knew what it was, but did not want to admit it.

“It isn’t your beauty, now, is it?” he went on, reaching out to catch a tear before it stained her cheek.

She took all of her courage into her hands, “it is linked to my beauty though. The thing is, you know, that people don’t see past my appearance, they only see what is on the outside.”

He nodded, “go on, I am all ears.”

“I have been ignored by friends because I am the one getting all the attention. I have been called a ‘fake’, I have been confronted with too much jealousy.” Gratefully she accepted his handkerchief to blow her nose.

“So why is it that I made you cry the other day? I have neither called you a fake, nor been jealous of your looks. I know that you are more than what you are on the outside. There is someone inside of you who is longing to be loved.”

“Exactly for that reason, you are the first person who has seen me for WHO I am and not for WHAT I appear to be. I feel like as if I have been wounded by too many hurtful words, by too many incisive looks, and too much jealousy. You see?”

“Let me help you find happiness. I want to heal those wounds”. He said and leaned in for a kiss.

“Your soul is marked by a scar, but I will do everything for it to vanish.”

This is my  almost too late entry into this weeks #blogbattle the word to use was scar
#BlogBattle is a weekly event hosted by Rachael Ritchey, head over to her blog and check out the other stories and vote for your favourites.

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© Solveig Werner 2015. All rights reserved.