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by Nikki
Rated: E · Draft · Psychology · #2308892
This is an extract from an incipit that I'm currently writing. Looking for feedback.

Draft - A youthful scar

I leaned on my leather couch - neither a rugged, worn spot surface, nor a damp and smelly hide; it was mine, giving me a smooth sensation on my back.

The intricate craftmanship never failed to remind me the item's price; yet, observing the intricate stiches scattered on the piece, I couldn't help but find it fair. At least, these thoughts healed my guilty mind over the empty wallet.

A soft, familiar scent of honey rose from the couch, twirling and dancing in the butter-filled air. A few minutes earlier, she began baking a patch of golden-crusted breads. Well, I expected this hue from her awe-inspiring skills.

She - my girlfriend, yet to be wife - hummed with glee; a distinct tune, unknown to many, that I learned by acute listening. Whatever she liked, I, too, began to appreciate more.

I skimmed over a wooden bookshelf, and the wall that it neighbored. From my slouched position, sloth-like position, the wooden bookshelf stood at a towering two meters.

Five rows, infused by the smell of dust. The books built an opaque cobweb, enough to hide a green glint from its depths.

A dozen bottles of century-long alcohol; dusty, glossy - worse of all, smelling awful and unkept.

On my left, from a wide opening, a pair of feet stepped in, wearing nothing by a thin sandal.

"Honey." A mellow voice called out. I straightened my back, gazing at my girlfriend's face, her hanging blond braids, or bewitching blue irises. She wore a yellow apron over a low bump.

"Hey. Done already?" I spoke up with the same kindness; a husky voice, contrasting her own.

"They're cooking in the kitchen."

The smell of butter escaped from her back. With a glance, I invited her to sit next to me. She dashed forward, collapsing on the bouncy sofa, then to my lap. A soft grin blossomed on her face.

"Mn." I nodded, running my hand thought her hair. My fingers combed unruly bangs. "How many minutes is that?"

She chuckled. "Oh my. You've forgotten already - is the old age coming to you?" Turning her face skyward, our gazes met, intertwined, before I gifted a light kiss.

Then, I frowned. "I'm good enjoying my twenties, Ma'am."

"Maybe you should, together with someone." Again, she smiled, this time with an afterthought of teasing.

"Is there someone that can handle my perfect self?" I sneered, avoiding her gaze. She pinched my cheek with fingertips, like a cat's playful slap.

"It seems you haven't been staring at my face long enough."

We shared a laugh, a ball of emotions, or a plain, boring moment. I chose to interpret it at the former. A silence engulfed the atmosphere in comfort.

"Oh." She said. "That's right. My sister nagged my all day on the phone."

I smiled. "Why?"

"She said our flat isn't large enough for three."

My mood turned sour, then thoughtful. "Well...nothing a few loans can't fix."

No answer came; my girlfriend paused to take a breath.

"Honey." She spoke up, peering into my eyes. "Do remember what we talked about?"

I did, of course. Without much to say, I nodded, never abandoning her stargaze.

"Hm." Mirroring my gesture, she continued. "Then, have you done it?" Her soft, sweet tone hinted at touches of sourness. Carefreeness lacked, raising my heartbeat a level.

Considering my girlfriend's personality, whatever I said, she wouldn't get angry.

Thus, I lied; it wasn't different to how, a second earlier, I had taken a breath.

"Yeah." A smug expression curled on my lips. "It's been five weeks. My brain's running like clockwork."

At first, a dubious look, shifting into a frown - then, finally, a priceless smile of love. She showed me of all these while resting her arms around my neck.

Pulling me, our noses stroked. I kissed her once again; this time, she closed her eyes to savor the moment with muffled noises.

However, I didn't. The hidden bottles, disgusting and unkept, drew my eyes; tonight, their smell seemed unbearable.


It was a bright, glimmery summer sky, whose blue color dispelled any clouds daring enough. The few wind gales flowed through the trees, rustling a forest of leaves. It was peaceful, yet annoying kind of muffle.

I - We strolled on a path of grass and dirt, passing by old benches and people alike. An exposed area, housing a massive, crystal-clear lac stood a couple of meters ahead. My wife's grip around my fingers tightened; she slid them on my skin.

Indeed, not my girlfriend, because a mouth prior, I had gotten married. Neither a sudden, mindless decision, nor the greatest of my life. For a week or two, a wave of bliss struck me. Like, I'd found the grand purpose of existence.

Then, nothing. Without anger, boredom - not even a hint of resentment. I wondered if a shared life had such weird quirks.

Yet, as I glanced at my wife's hourglass figure, her face covered in glisters, my love bloomed again.

"Wanna go?" I asked, taking a step forward. After accepting her embrace, she followed at my side, grinning from lip to cheek.

Without a doubt - if there existed a fact that I never once did, it was this affection. I loved her, and, with a tip of luck, she did too.

We reached the edge of the lac, where a soft current brought tiny wrinkles of wave. The sunlight basked my wife into a golden hue; I peered at her figure, taking off her shoes to wet her feet.

I sat next to her, crossing my legs. A familiar weight fell on my shoulder, and blond bangs caressed my cheek, together with the scent of a cinnamon perfume.

"Honey, look." She pointed her index forward, whispering into my ear. Opposite of us, a group of five or six kids ran after a red ball, tumbling down a bump. It gathered dirt, rolling in the park in-between a nest of roots, before falling in the lac, floating.

The kids shared an expression of disappointment, together with my wife. One began weeping; thankfully, she didn't. Instead, I spotted her soft smile, growing bigger after each second of silence.

I had an inkling about what she - my partner, thought.

"It's a pretty sight."

She turned to me; her eyes glimmered.

"Don't you think?"

For seconds, I couldn't offer an answer, to which my wife cocked her head; with patience and care.

"Honey?" Her teary tone carried misplaced worry. In the end, without a word, I embrace her with a burning and sincere warmth.

Our bodies remained stuck, until we kissed. Once, then twice. She let out a whisper into my ear.

"I love you."

"Me too." I answered curtly.



The following month was a wave of happiness; alongside my wife, we navigated the needle mat of life with glee.

This night, on a meaningless whim, I strolled the streets to her working place. Past midnight, the city light collapsed on the many crowds that bustled the streets. Armies, or swarms. The potent stench of cigarettes and matured beers brew in this battlefield.

Lights. On every side, at every corner, blinding neon in alternating colors. Blue, red, magenta; green - they blended, mixed, spiraled in the night until becoming a mess. The crowd mutters drowning me added layers to this madness.

I strode further, navigating the labyrinth structure of the district; tracing back my steps, cutting corners, and eventually, landing in front of a wooden frontage. Near a lit avenue, a place that dispelled safety, it had an eye-drawing, vibrant red paintjob. Above the rugged door were tiny inscriptions or letters. Cumbersome to read.

Like a reflex, matter-of-factly, I pushed the door open to a new realm.

Definitely, this was my feeling. A Victorian chandelier casted an orange hue against raging people, clustered around a dozen round tables. Trapped. These were the waiters, bolting, running, balancing towers of stained plates or fancy glass.

A shattered sound rung out. Some turned their head, most were too busy or drunk. Another broken plate to clean, its shards strewn on a fur mat. A nearby waiter had his shoulder slumped.

Then, I saw her. Behind the counter, tying her pretty hair into a fashionable bun. The alluring red dress she wore emphasized her figure; one wrong part, too. Our eyes met, becoming wrinkled.

In slow, deliberate steps, I walked forward, sitting on a stood. A crashing aura; the tiny lamp dangling over me casted it.

My wife gave me a passionate peer.

"All alone?" She teased, leaning her elbows on the counter.

I shook my head. "As you can see."

My tone, wink, and artless behavior - all of it, she received it, grinning.

"What a coincidence." She leaned further, placing a hand on my cheek. "I happen to free. What do you say?"

I replicated her move, stroking her skin. Soft and bouncy.

"Must be." I chuckled. She removed her hand, furrowing her brows. Her motion froze.

"Wait. I'll be back."

Leaving me with a single glance, she tiptoed to a nearby table, where a group of well-dressed man waved their hands. To order, I presumed; their discussion were muffled.

The staff room opened its door parallel to me. A young girl, bolting with a surplus of energy, escaped a cube of gray walls. With clumpy steps, shifting an ebony ponytail left and right, and a teasing face, she stopped. Opposite of me, bringing the smell of lime.

"Hey. You good?" I said, leaning back with a sigh.

"Well, good." It was high-pitched tone, and a caring voice.

"I'm impressed your parents still haven't figured it out. Just so you know, they don't accept minors anymore."

To my words, the girl nodded. To her answer, I flicked her forehead. She glared, before rubbing the blow.

"It's been six month, I doubt they'll ever figure it out." The girl said.

"You know, I wouldn't be so sure." I laughed.

She returned my laugh, a chuckle. "I do."

A cornered criminal. That's how I looked like, raising my hands in the air.

"Alright. Don't go hugging my knees later." I said in a grave tone. The girl twirled a bang, glaring at me, then avoiding my gaze.

"I guess I'll tell your wife, then." A faint curl could be seen on her lips.

"Ah, don't do that either."

We gazed at our surroundings - the atmosphere, shouts, and flying curses - then shared a relaxed expression. A comforting mayhem - it befell us.

The girl peered at me, her eyes glimmered with stars.

"So. When is it?" She asked, snapping at me.


"Come on."

As the interrogation pursued, my expression crisped.


Pausing, I rummaged my brain for fitting words. An empty container.

"It's three. Three month away, yeah."

The stars, dancing in the girl's eyes, were about to pop out any time. A tiny push, a drop of information, and she would grab my collar for more.

"Yeah? Wow, uh. I..."

Imitating me, she fumbled over her sentences. Nothing remained but bits and pieces. Her lips twitched, closing and opening.

"Sorry. It's just - seeing it for real, I don't know what to say."

I wasn't mad - in fact, amused by her youthful reaction. She seemed about to bolt away, or wanted to escape me.

A pat. I stroked, rustled the girl's head that turned unkept, until banishing the awkwardness out of her body. She seemed lively again.

"I get it. You care, and we're happy about it. Look."

She followed the tip of my index. It pointed at her right to my wife - dancing, laughing, or playing cards, always the confidence of a warrior.

"- that's why we're fine."

The girl gave a shy nod, then a smug face.

"You're staring too much." She said, turning her head to my wife who walked to the counter.

I waited seconds. Enough, until she could hear my teasing.

"Am I?"

"Kinda." My wife spoke, sitting next to Lily. We trapped ourselves in a bubble, sharing a laugh. They smiled, teased, like relatives.

The sight was sparkling. Pure. A flawless sort of honesty that blossomed into happiness.

Something stirred inside of my stomach. Maybe, it did for a long time. Keeping my balance, I stood up. The two gave me a confused glance.


I dismissed her word, waving my hand. "I'm going to the bathroom. Feeling a little off."

Taking no backward glance, I stumbled into the bathroom. The exact path, it's turns - colors, or shape, were blank. The throbbing headache erased it all.

My face, wet with sweat, faced me. The cloudy mirror, stained, reflected a distorted part. Yet, I could see.

I saw its outlines, a dainty curve on my chin, and traces of cheek fat. Not a handsome sight. It didn't matter; because someone loved all of it.

It shot up in my head. A blurry picture that stood out amongst thousands. The one that haunted my softest dreams.

It made me puke. The world shook, flipped on itself; I imagined voices, whispers crawling on my damp skin.

Then, everything stopped, except a clog in my throat. Burning. I coughed, hugged my neck to breath. A few times, until my sight returned stable.

My face, fears, or a pair of puffed eyes - I washed it all in the sink.

Later, I escaped the bar, telling Lily and my wife that fatigue had gotten to me. One chuckled, calling me an antiquity, the other's gaze scolded me - both wished for my safety.

The sound of clanging keys filled the silence in our flat. Grabbing the nearest cushion, my body collapsed on the soft, bouncy sofa. The smell of honey drifted me away.

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