❝ it is weird to suddenly having to think about your life when you never had one... let alone the freedom to chose your own future. i don't even know what to do with myself now. i have nothing, nothing off my own, no achievments, no education... ❞ a frown drew upon her forehead, embarassed saying it. ❝ i barely know how to read and write, if I remember at all, the last time I held a book, was in the night before they wedding, the last happy thing I remember... me hiding under the table reading that book about dinoaurs while they prepared my wedding dress... the following night i was no longer a child, he made sure to show me as he threw it into the fire right before... ❞ her eyes closed as she had to take a deep breath, that night was was the first time she realised that she no longer was allowed to be a child, but had to be a wife. she was barley eleven.
❝ like really, i would offer to cook, but really, for the sake of both of our health and life, we should not go there. we surivived today, we do not need yet another suicide mission. ❞ housework, chores, cooking, it might have seemed like it was something she would have done at home, but even that, she was not allowed to do. anything that could give her an advantage, knowledge, education, no matter how stupid it was, he would not allow it, everything that could make her shine, that could give her a voice, was out of question. the abuse was easy to handle. the constant silence, silence felt heavier when you had nothing to fill it with. that was the true torture. the nothing. ❝ i don't really know how i would pay you back i really am not good in anyth- ❞
but before she could even finish, his presence came closer, and she became silent, all bad thoughts immeditaly leaving her mind as his warmth was radiating upon her. usually, her body would have reacted out of instinct already, no matter who it was, she would have immediately stepped back, but she did not. a protection mechanism trained by nature rather than logic, because there was no logic behind it, that man would have still found a reason to leave her skin bruised. she could have gone a hundred steps back, and she would have been beaten for not doing a hundred and one. but jay was different. she did not step back. did not want to. he didn't scare her. he didn't make her feel like she had to flee, didn't give her the feeling of standing in the way.
❝ even though i would love to know everything about you... i hardly know myself really. it's just easy to predict people when you know their scars. you don't really take care of your wounds. you are like me, you are too used to getting hurt. but you hardly took care of the big ones so you really never bothered to waste your time on the small ones. i just can tell by the few other small scars you have... you probably don't even know you have them. ❞ she shook her head slowly, most people did not notice it, but she did, the scar might be as faint or as small, barely visible to the eye, but she would be able to tell how old it was, how well it was taken care of and how it ended up making perfect skin flawed. ❝ i was never allowed to talk with anyone. even my maids were not allowed to address me. i don't even know how my own name sounds like. i hate it anyways. it was only ever yelled at me while ... and i was only ever allowed to talk when he asked me something and a word too much and... ❞ she had never truly realised how abnormal her life was, how lonely it was, for her it had always been like that. her childhood had been nothing but a faint memory, it always seemed like a dream which was never really true, she was not even sure if it was ever true to begin with. but now speaking it aloud, it did hurt more than she wanted to admit.
❝ a bird in a cage. just there to look pretty, to entertain, not allowed a single distraction to escape it's prison for a while. the abuse was easy to handle really. you hold still. you endure. you don't complain. you lay there, hold still... and you don't fight back... you learn how to endure pain, how to make it hurt less, but silence you cannot turn off, the constant nothing, the quietness ... emptiness feels a lot heavier when you have nothing to silence it with, life is much harder to endure when all you do is exist... you constantly feel like you are suffocating, day after day, month after month, year after year. your mind is always working and that is so much more cruel than any broken bone. you only stand there and listen. caged in your mind. not allowed a voice. an opinion. anything. so when you are not allowed to look anybody in the face, you learn to read them differently. people's scars were the only way for me to know their story. and when you do everything in your power to avoid scars, to dress your own wounds, hoping that this time it would look less obvious... you start learn a lot about bruised skin, how it heals, how scars look, what wound marks you which way... we all hurt differently, but the healing process is the same. so you start to puzzle the stories together. people have so many scars, they arent even aware of most of them... but a trained eye sees them still. your scars... they make you an open book ... you have this scar, close to your eyebrow, i am pretty sure your brother was responsible for it because he has one above his lip, which is the exact same age as yours... same cause, same circumstances, same violence it was inflicted by... i immeditaly knew you both were responsible for each the second i learnt you were siblings. ❞
she could not help but laugh, and that laugh did something it very rarley did, while it still did not fully reach her eyes, it managed to colour them in some joy only jay managed to bring out in her. her eyes now fixed upon his fingers in hers which he had placed in her hand, her fingerprints tracing along the soft of his skin, as if she was following a road on a map, how good it felt to be finally touch someone. not be touched. but to touch. ❝ you have a lot of burn scars on your fingers. skin used to changing bullets from a gun, burn marks from still too metal, too hot for touch, but you were too eager to change them, whatever the reason, the hot shells torched your skin, you can be very impatient, especially when it's something you think is right to fight for. but also very stubborn. you don't like to be told what to do, even if it is your body reminding you to rest. or especially then. your fingertips, dulled by the tapping of your fingers on things all the time. your mind is always restless. it is easy to know why. you have scars from scratches up your arms, combat, knives, sand, stones, crawling over uneven and rough ground. most of them should have healed without a mark, but your skin was too dry, too exposed to an unusual amount of sun your body was not used to. heat, sand and sweat... ❞
❝ it opened the scratches over and over again and the uv light darkens the skin. which just shows your loyalty, you cared more about duty and your partners than the uncomfortable feeling of salt in your wounds. but even aside of those, you have too many little scars so obvious from combat, but healed too dirtied for simple police work. you are not afraid to get dirty. you look out for your people above yourself. you are protective, you took wounds for others without mentioning it, a lot of times you didn't even show it, or else these two scars on your side wouldn't be there.... they showed when you reached for that book for me, when you claimed to have run into me again in the market, when all you did was to question me... those scars... whoever they were taken for, would they have seen them, they would have helped you dress them, because dear god, you would have needed that help. that shows you are selfless, you are courageous... really careless and absurdly reckless at times. i knew the second i first saw you that you were in active duty once. from there it's simple logic. you have no accent, not even inheriated, so you are born american, at least third for fourth generation. you are too young for iraq, too old for syria. the scars on your arms. rangers often carry them, too little time to invest, too little fear to care. you spent a lot of time on your stomach, up on your elbows the worn off skin clearly show that. but also your muscles in your lower arms, they are trained in a way, the scars grew with that. you had to train to hold still with the weight upon your arms, for a long period of time. too skilled for a police officer. afghanistan. ranger. sniper. ❞
she clearly had not only misjudged her knowledge about him, but also her knowledge about things most people didn't even think about. the way she connected the dots. the way she could read people, especially him. ❝ it's not just ones skin though, the heart, ones morals, ones self image, ones consciousness or humanity they all scar... but you wear them differently, those are the ones you usually try to hide. they are harder to notice, one has to watch you and look for them. you see them in the way someone moves. it's hard to explain. i just met too many people who i had no permission of knowing. after some times you just start to notice patterns. and you have that one pattern. its only those who saw someone dying right next to them, who do that. it's that certain light that is missing their. it's the way you pretend to look at someone, but in your mind you stare into the distance, it's not coping, it is a way to avoid getting too close to someone else thinking they might die too if you blink one too many times. i have seen too many people coming from civil wars, too many terrorists, too many soldiers, too many heroes, too many villains, who is who depends on who you ask... being the wife of my husband i met a lot of heroes and villains. and it doesn't matter who they thought was the right person to fight for, when death comes unnatural and that very close to you, it changes you. ❞
❝ especially the death you give yourself the fault for. you do that. a lot. your fingers... slight scarring around your nails, usually signs of anxiety, most of the time either unnoticed or... forcefully hidden... supressed... but you can not turn them off, they find you evntually... nightmares... ❞ she suddenly felt like she had gone too far, however unsure if it was herself she had revealed too much off or him. either way she forced herself to clear her throat a little. it was bizare really. that she thought of herself as stupid, as close to illiterate, as useless, but her knowing all of that, just at the top of her head, just by studying and watching the few things her husband could not forbid her to look at. she was already able to profile someone by looking at their skin, no wonder she would one day join the fbi as a profiler. this woman was everything but stupid or slow. she had always been too smart for her own good. at least until now. but she would not see it.
❝ you also have this very faint scar on your left jaw, men usually have them but yours... it seems like you kept on shaving on top of it over and over and over again because you were too stubborn to just patch it up, either because someone told you so or because you refused to get out of your way for something so stupid. it was the first scar i noticed about you. i remember when you walked into that room that day, your brother called you, despite both of you still claiming he did not. he is a horrible liar, really. worse than i am. but i was so caught off guard as you walked into that room, it was like time suddenly stopped and... you refused to just let me look away. you forced me to look into your eyes without having to do anything... it was the first time i remember having seen anyone's eyes really... i suddenly felt like i saw light for the first time in my life, like... so much weight fell off my shoulders... like i was finally able to breathe... it scared me so much i immediately had to look away and... i noticed that scar... it imeditaly told me everything about you I needed to know. ❞
she had always carried her heart on her tongue, that until she no longer was allowed to speak. but even with her voice take, she always was too good of a person for this world, especially in that kind of world she had lived in. she was like a moth captured in utter darkness when all it wanted was to seek light. and when he entered her life, she had seen light for the first time in her life. ❝ i don't know how long i would have been able to hold on. ❞ her eyes veiled with tears but she did not drop a single one of them, not only because she was too good, too trained in holding them back, crying was never something she allowed herself, even now where it finally felt like she could allow herself. ❝ i only now realise how exhausted i was... how tired i am... how tired everyone else was about me. everyone but not you. you never got tired of me. you never gave up on me. never got mad at me. when i did all of that. ❞
for any other man she would have guessed them expecting her to pay back with her body, but not for one second did she even consider that he might think that. everyone in this world had bad thoughts behind their motives, and she would second-guess everyone's every single step, everyone in this world, but never his. which made it the more confusing, as to why he was doing this. so her she was, confused, helpless, unsure. she wanted to immediately prove herself useful again. accepting someone being nice to her… she did not know how to.
❝ all my life i have wanted to be invisible, for nobody to see me. to just exist without living. but you make it so easy to want to be seen... ❞ she shook her head, that was not quite right, her eyes shut tightly, her fingers gently lacing with his, experimenting, trying, exploring, testing how deep she was able to dip into the water. ❝ no, no that is not quite it. you make me want to be seen by you... ❞ she was unable to look at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip and she did not know why she blushed, but she did, her gaze drifting everywhere but back to him as her heart was pounding against her chest, ❝ you are the first person to look at me not like i am either an absolute burden or a complete pitiful failure... not with pity or disgust. you... see me, just me, and make me feel like i am enough. ❞
her breath trembled as her small hand held onto his, it took her a lot of courage to look back at him again, a lot of strength she actually no longer had to ask him that, ❝ why? ❞ she whispered, looking at him, standing so close to him, without wanting to back off, without wanting to flee, no, instead wanting to fly closer to the warm light he radiated. both of them probably already knew why, they probably knew the second they first laid eyes upon one another, but neither of them brave enough to say. anxiety started to feed upon her and her teeth dug deeper into her lower lip, ripping open skin which had just started to heal, she didn't even flinch; she was used to the feeling of skin tearing open. but her body had enough, as she suddenly realised the true weight of his words. her entire body suddenly shuddered, shivering wild, was it not only now realising how cold it had felt all this time, and how utterly tired it really was, but also the realisation settling in; nothing of this was over. not even close. ❝ he will come after me, won't he? ❞ nobody should ever turn as pale as she just did, especially not someone of her complexion. ❝ he will come after everything that means something to me, he will come after you. ❞