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“I saw your scars this morning.”
Her face fell.
“And I never saw them before and-”
“Cause you weren’t meant to.”
“Lucy, that’s crazy.”
She clenched her jaw.
“How could you have scars like that, and I don’t know about it?”
“Cause it’s not your problem.”
“Don’t you get it,” I said, scooting closer to her. “Your problems are my problems.”
She swallowed and looked at me. “It’s not even like that. There is no problem. It was a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
She sighed.
“Who did that to you?”
“No one.”
“Did your boss-”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not a big deal.”
“So just tell me.”
Her eyes pleaded with me. “Can’t you just pretend you never saw them?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I did it to myself.”
My guts tangled inside me. “What?”
“When we were teenagers.”
“You did it to yourself?”
“After my Mom died.”
I pursed my lips.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you pity me.”
“I don’t pity you,” I said. “I’m just sad that you would do that to yourself.”
“I was just a little fucked up for a while, that’s all.”
