Writing Prompt Wednesday #81

The story of a scar.
https://thewritepractice.com/short-story-ideas/

TW: Physical and mental abuse

My nephew sits before me
And he stares down at my thigh.
He runs a ringer along the line
And all he says is “why?”
The memories start to return,
Coming back through years.
I give him a small smile.
My eyes are shining behind tears.
“Alright let me tell you.
Sit down, don’t go far.
Let me share with you
The story of this scar.

It was 13 years ago:
I’d barely turned 18.
I’d moved in with my boyfriend,
Who for now we’ll call Dean.
He was fun, he made me laugh,
And he answered every call.
But what I didn't see then
Was the anger behind it all.


So one day I came home from work
And he was at the door.
His eyes were full of danger.
I wondered what was in store.
His movements were precise,
But they were filled with fire.
He said, ‘you were late from work
And I know you are a liar.’


I asked him what he meant.
He said I’d lost his trust.
I was still confused,
But he just scowled in disgust.
He yelled at me and scorned.
I wanted to run and hide.
I tried to explain I was sorry,
And that I had never lied.


This answer didn’t satisfy
Dean’s anger and his rage.
He crossed to the kitchen.
I felt like I was in a cage.
He stumbled back towards me,
And in one swift move he cut.
The blood began to pour
And fear churned throughout my gut.


But like all scars it healed,
Though the fear does not rest.
I got out of there alive
But other people weren’t as blessed.”
And as my nephew sits before me,
And shakes his head so I can see,
I find myself comforted
Knowing he won’t scar others such as me.
It was 13 years ago:
I’d barely turned 18.
I’d moved in with my boyfriend,
Who for now we’ll call Dean.
He was fun, he made me laugh,
And he answered every call.
But what I didn't see then
Was the anger behind it all.

So one day I came home from work
And he was at the door.
His eyes were full of danger.
I wondered what was in store.
His movements were precise,
But they were filled with fire.
He said, ‘you were late from work
And I know you are a liar.’

I asked him what he meant.
He said I’d lost his trust.
I was still confused,
But he just scowled in disgust.
He yelled at me and scorned.
I wanted to run and hide.
I tried to explain I was sorry,
And that I had never lied.

This answer didn’t satisfy
Dean’s anger and his rage.
He crossed to the kitchen.
I felt like I was in a cage.
He stumbled back towards me,
And in one swift move he cut.
The blood began to pour
And fear churned throughout my gut.

But like all scars it healed,
Though the fear does not rest.
I got out of there alive
But other people weren’t as blessed.”
And as my nephew sits before me,
And shakes his head so I can see,
I find myself comforted
Knowing he won’t scar others such as me.