Page 3 of Scar

The man leaves shortly after I sit down with Carlie, Sean, Shelby, and a few girls I've actually never met. I assume Shelby added a few friends to the group in the short time that she's been with our little group.

Carlie is the fun one of the group, she's the party animal, the loud girl, outgoing, the guys love her. Sean is the athlete, plays baseball, and hopes to go pro. He's popular with the guys and always has a new date following him around like a lost puppy. We have a few others, but I don't connect with them much. We make small talk. They're at our house for movie nights, but I couldn't tell you the first personal fact about them. Not something I can repeat, at least.

I know Jessica is cheating on her boyfriend with the captain of the football team, but I don't know if she grew up in Texas. I know that Frannie got syphilis from the captain of the ice hockey team. Coincidentally, that's Jessica's boyfriend, but I have no idea what her major even is.

But Carlie, I know everything about Carlie. We met in middle school and have been inseparable ever since, despite being polar opposites. Carlie likes to party and talk to absolutely everyone that might listen. I like to stay home, I like spending time in my garden or studying. I like to keep to myself, and I watch far too much TV. But somehow, it works for us. We balance each other out. I don't know where Shelby fits into all of this, but I'm sure she'll fit in perfectly. Based on how everyone smiles when the two of us sit down at the table, she's already in. Probably more than I ever was.

I'm not even surprised when the food comes and it smells like soy sauce. I've lived with celiac long enough to know the difference between soy sauce and tamari. I head up to the counter, trying to ignore the cashier glaring at me from the back of the line. If this meal didn't cost almost sixteen dollars, I'd just throw it away and go home.

But I budgeted this money to go out with my friends tonight. I'd like to at least be able to eat. By the time it's my turn, all of my friends are almost done eating. I want to cry, I want to go home. I know the cafeteria on campus is already closed for the night, so if I don't get this replaced, I'll end up eating food I can whip up at home. Which isn't much. I have rice at home, I have potatoes, I know I have oats. I don't think I have a single vegetable, but I know I have apples in the fridge.

Ooh, I have a few of those no bakes from last week in my desk drawer. I don't want another night of having cookies for dinner, I always wake up sluggish when I do that, but it might be the reality. I know the girls, plus Sean, are going to want to go out drinking when they're done eating. I hadn't planned to join them for that, so they'll probably leave without waiting for me.

Finally when it's my turn I step to the register with a friendly smile on my face and my inedible food in hand. The cashier plasters on a fake smile as she greets me and asks what's wrong. I explain the issue, that I have celiac disease, that I can not afford to eat contaminated food, and that it smells like soy sauce instead of tamari.

She gives me some snooty response about stir fry having soy sauce, that I should have known that. But I politely point out that the menu says it is a gluten-free option, with tamari. I'm left standing there like an idiot while she walks to the back to check with the manager on what to do. But I'm so embarrassed I just want to run.

Shelby joins my side a second later, putting her arm around my waist. "Hey, darling. We were about to head to the bar. Are you meeting us there?" She asks sweetly. Yep, I want to cry. Even if this lady fixes my food, which I don't trust she won't contaminate it just for annoying her, I'd be eating alone. "Uh, no. I was going to head home. But have fun, text me in the morning?" I request. Shelby shakes her head no, waving the group off but staying by my side. "I'm not going if you're not. What are we waiting for?" She asks sweetly.

By the time the cashier comes back, she looks frustrated and even sighs before approaching the counter and loosely explains something about being out of Tamari. She reluctantly offers me a refund, which I happily take. If I can't eat this, I would love to not have to pay for it.

Shelby and I head out on foot towards my apartment. It's only a mile, but I know I'll be sweating like a fool by the time we get back. Sometimes, I hate the Texas heat. Wait, I take that back, I always hate the Texas heat.

Shelby makes polite talk while we walk down the street together, but I stop when I see a young woman with a hand made cardboard sign asking for money to buy food. I squat down to her level and throw the change from my bag into her cup. "Hi, would you like my meal? It's stir fry, I haven't touched it." I say sweetly to this woman. She happily takes the small plastic container from me and starts to dig in with a plastic fork she already had with her other belongings. "Bless you, sweet girl." She says. I love helping people, plus it would have gone to waste anyway. So why not help others?

Feeling a little better about myself, Shelby and I continue our walk to my apartment. But I'm feeling crappy. This day really couldn't have gone much worse. I'm hungry, embarrassed, and most of my friends ditched me for the night. But at least Shelby vowed not to ditch me. I'm already dreading taking her back to my apartment. It's embarrassing to bring someone home and only have water, sparkling water and coffee to drink, and only have a few snacks to eat. Hopefully, she isn't the judgemental type. She doesn't seem like it. But none of them do at first.

Chapter 4

Leon's POV

I've been in a fucking terrible mood for the last two weeks. Luckily my patient load is a little lower a few days this week, giving me the time I need to take a little drive to Arlington.

I've been planning this trip for weeks, ever since that almost patient of mine killed herself. I've just been a little too busy to get it done until this week. I hate that this girl's father is under the impression that he got away with how he treated her. I hate that he basically did.

Denise showed up at the police station that night, fresh strangulation marks around her neck, the blood vessels in her eyes had burst, she was in absolute hysterics, and she had a witness. Yet somehow this fucker had gotten off. Maybe because she was only sixteen at the time? Her dad showed up at the police station, claiming he wasn't allowing his daughter to talk to the police without a guardian? Maybe she froze up?

Fuck, I don't know.

We never got to talk about it. But I read the police report when she booked a consultation. She had more than enough evidence to get him locked up for attempted murder, yet the entire case was thrown out. So this asshole has a spotless record and a dead child. I doubt he even cares that she killed herself. I wish she was my patient at the time. That way, I could have had a reason to speak to the father, an excuse to see if he even feels the slightest hint of remorse. I doubt that he does, but I intend to find out.

It's late in the afternoon when I reach Arlington, finding the trailer park that Mr. Sam Fredrick lives at is relatively easy, thankfully. I don't have the energy to drive all around this fucking town to find this guy. When I park my car in front of his trailer, I realize how out of place my car looks. Each car in this lot looks like it costs a couple of hundred bucks, each one looks at least as old as they are. I drive a brand new luxury car. Fuck, I should've rented a fucking mini van or something before driving here. Whatever, it's too late now.

I head up the small, half broken wooden steps until I reach his front door. I can smell the cat piss, cigarettes, and alcohol before the door is even open. It's making me debate how much I really want to walk into this place. Fuck it, I already wasted my entire day off driving here. I'm going in.

Sam Fredrick is exactly the type of guy I thought he was. Balding, out of shape, angry looking fucker. Definitely the type of guy that would wrap his hands around his sixteen year old's throat and try to strangle her to death for walking in on him watching child porn or whatever the fuck happened. Exactly the type of guy I picture partaking in that kind of shit, too.

Disgusting fucking pig.

I feel sick just looking at him, I can't imagine what Denise dealt with her entire childhood. I just hope her mother was in the picture and that she wasn't a total piece of shit like Denise's dad. "Can I help you?" He asks with a huff. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and he doesn't even bother to take his hand out of his pants.

I plaster on a fake smile, trying not to make a face at the smell of him and his home. "Yes, I am Dr. Leon Aldon. I was sent to check on the family of Denise Fredrick, are you Sam Fredrick?" I ask calmly. I know it's him, I made sure to look him up. I do my research. Fifty-two years old, lives alone, works as a truck driver for a small company, has almost nothing in his retirement, no other kids, divorced, loner. According to what I've found, even his coworkers hate him.

Sam reluctantly lets me inside when I spew off some bullshit about the city of Houston owing the family money for his daughter committing suicide in a public space. I don't know why he even bought that. Wouldn't he think, if anything, bystanders would be suing the family for emotional trauma? Not the other way around. Dumbass. But it got me in the door.

We sit and talk for a while, I ask the standard questions I would ask anyone that I actually give a shit about going through something traumatic like this. He gives me the responses I had already assumed I'd get from him. He's not surprised, she was a troubled teen, she ran away from home for no reason when she was sixteen, he hasn't heard from her in years. He tried to drive to Houston and find her, but he couldn't.

Everything I had already anticipated hearing.