Stitches & Scars

Cass peered through the peephole, but she couldn't tell who he was. He was wearing a dark hoodie, and facing the other way.

He wasn't holding a parcel, and in any case, she wasn't expecting a delivery. So why was he here? Whatever it was it had him agitated. He kept fidgeting from one foot to the other, glancing around and biting his nails.

He turned back to the door, stepping closer, but before she could get a good look at his face, his hand loomed large and he knocked again.

Cass checked the chain was on, and opened the door as far as it would allow.

"Yes?" she said. "Can I help y-"

The man turned to face her fully and she stopped dead mid-sentence. She did recognise him, of course she did. They'd lived together for nearly four years. She'd loved him. She had thought she might marry him.

But his face! What the hell's happened to his face?!

Cass couldn't hide her flinch, her shock.

Ugly scarring pitted and twisted the skin around his mouth. When a smile broke over his face, it looked like it really might break. The scars and surrounding micro creases in the skin looked almost like maggots teeming and crawling over each other.

"Sean?"

Cass unhooked the chain and pulled the door wide.

"Hey, Cass," he said. Do you mind if I come in?

"Um... sure." Cass stood aside and let him into her little flat.

Sean sloped inside, shedding his hood. He seemed to relax a little once the door was shut, as if he expected some person to appear out of nowhere and hurt him.

Cass was trying not to stare, but was wildly unsuccessful. The scar tissue around his lips was still fresh and raw. It looked tight, uneven, like the stitches had been pulled out too early.

"What happened to you?" It came out as a whisper.

"I think it was in the news, actually," he said. "Didn't you see, about that man shut up in that house with his- "

"_mouth stitched up," Cass finished for him. "So that was you? Oh my god Sean why didn't you call me?"

"Well, I was in hospital for a while. I lost my phone. I had a kind of amnesia. The doctors say it was trauma related. And I've been.... They say I have paranoia. Which... I don't know."

"Doesn't seem very fair," Cass murmured, loosening her grip on the chair she was holding on to for support and gesturing for him to sit down. "Can I get you anything?"

"A coffee would be great," he said.

For a moment, it was nearly like the months in between hadn't happened. So long as she didn't look right at his face.

Sean didn’t speak while she prepped the coffee. He stared at his hands, and chewed his ruined lips.

When Cass put the mug down in front of him, he blurted out,

"You were right you know. I guess you already do know, but I've got to say it. You were right, there was something weird going on on that street. I should have left when you did."

Cass sat opposite him with her own mug, and reached out to touch his hand.

"There was no way you could have known what was going to happen."

He stared into the coffee cup like there were answers in there.

"I suppose not. But I had to come and see you, and say sorry. I'm not looking for pity," he said, scowling. "Really I'm not. I get enough of that any time someone looks at m- anyway. There it is. Sorry."

"I don't know what to say, " Cass admitted, covering her awkwardness with a sip.

"There's something else," Sean admitted, suddenly sheepish. "I... I need somewhere to stay,” The words came slow, uneven, like he was forcing them out. "Just for a bit. A few days maybe."

There was silence for a moment. Maybe Cass was processing the shock, or maybe she was figuring out how to let him down. He rushed to fill it.

"I'm not asking for another chance, Cass. I don't expect to get back together or anything." A rueful grin pulled at the scars, and it looked like they might split.

"I just need a place while I get back on my feet And maybe... I don't know..."

Cass took another sip.

"I'd like to find her. You know. That Nona. I thought we could put our heads together and..." He looked sheepish again, painfully aware of how weak his plan sounded. Hardly worthy of the word "plan" at all.

“Did she do that to you?” Cass asked.

He nodded.

"I want her to answer for it," he said. "What she did. I want to find her. I think... I think she might have done something to her husband... There was something in the news, something... I struggle a bit..."

He frowned, and stared off into space for a moment. The chair tipped over with a clatter because he got to his feet abruptly and strode to the window. Peering, biting his nails, and hopping from foot to foot.

Are you okay?" Cass asked, and immediately felt silly for asking.

"Yes. I just... It's hard, reading about it, you know? That's why... it would just be good to have someone..."

"I'll help," Cass said. "Of course I will."

+

Thank you for reading!