Series: Unheard tales of an antagonist- Tale 5 -P13- Page 3

2. Scars

[Music Selection]

My hands feel the edges of the yellowed paper taking in the scent of rust and memories. They say wounds heal but scars show. And I for one have always loved scars. Each scar told a story after all.

Just like this one, I think as my hands pass over an old newspaper clipping from almost a decade ago. My eyes pass over the familiar words as I look at the pictures that would never leave my conscious.

These pictures were sensationalized a decade ago, causing one of the greatest scandals of that time, as one of the elite families was involved in the scandal. These pictures left a scar in many lives, mostly his. I tilt my head to look at the couple in the picture. For everyone, they were few frivolous pictures of a rich brat with a girl. Nobody knows the memories they carry. Memories of a love forgone, of uncertainties and insecurities. Memories of me. With him.

I see myself in the pictures for a millionth time now and like every time I feel goose bumps on my skin. His face buried in my hair, he was not aware of what my countenance held at that moment, for which I will always be grateful. Here was a woman awakened by his touch, her eyes closed, her fingers digging into his scalp, her face contorted in both pain and pleasure. The woman from the picture was so different from me that I couldn't identify myself with her.

I was drugged that day, I remember, but unlike his belief I was not off my senses so much that I would let him do something against my wishes. He never knew about what I felt then.

Neither would he, ever.

I put the memories back into the closet, and walk out of the store room of my home.

Some scars are memories.

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