Page 12 of Choices

She'll never look at me like that. Maybe coming wasn't a good idea. In fact, her smile falters as she sees me over Rico's shoulder.

She may not want me, but why thefuck does Rico get to indulge in a little playing house and I don't?

"Morning, Princess. This is Santiago, my enforcer."

Fuck, he's even got a pet name for her?

She looks wary, her eyes ping-ponging between Rico and me, at least until her posh upbringing kicks in.

She hurries forward to shake my hand. I've never shaken a woman's hand before, so I hold it gently, awkwardly, and scowl at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Hannah." She pulls her hand from mine when recognition crosses her face.

I nod and glare at her, challenging her to be freaked out, to hate me, to fear me.

She takes a step back, and looks to Rico again. She trusts him, so she trusts me.

"He doesn't speak." Rico offers.

"Oh." She says simply, before her hands fly in all sorts of shapes and she mouths something to me. But I'm not deaf, so I never learned how to read mouths. I shake my head 'no'. I'm about to pull out my phone, but Rico knows the drill.

"He had his throat slit at sixteen and his vocal cords were damaged."

She gasps, and her eyes shoot to my neck, looking for the scar. But she can't see it. She steps closer toward me. Close enough I can feel her body heat, and smell her lilac shampoo. If I could have, I would have groaned. We're almost chest to chest, and she has to crane her neck back to see my neck closer. I turn my head away, not wanting her to see the grotesque scar.

I expect her to be appalled. Disgusted. But instead, she does the most curious thing. She licks her thumb and drags it down the side of my neck, effectively removing the concealer I put there hastily at a stop light. I don't always hide it, but when I'm trying to avoid attention in public, or not wanting to scare a suburban housewife, I'll cover it. I suppress a shiver at the intimate contact. No one touches me. I'm the ruthless enforcer. The one who Rico sends to interrogate prisoners. The scary fucker that puts people in their place with just a glare.

She turns and walks back towards the sink, wetting a towel. I sneak a peak at Rico who's grinning like the Cheshire cat. Like he's just won his favorite game.

He knows I'm uncomfortable and he's loving it.

I jump a little when she reappears in front of me. She begins wiping off the concealer from my scar with the wet cloth. I snatch her wrist to stop her.

"I'm sorry." She whispers, licking her lips nervously.

I just shake my head at her.

"Are you embarrassed of it?"

I shake my head 'no'. In fact, I’ve covered my body in tattoos, all the way up the back of my neck and skull, but left the front of my neck naked skin, so that all of our enemies can see it. It’s a good intimidation feature.

"Think it's ugly?"

I nod my head 'yes'.

She raises her shirt to show off her thick c-section scar. It looks like it was painful.

I release her hand and type into my phone.'It's different.'

"How so? Maybe you didn't push a baby out of your throat, but my scars have made me who I am. I'm stronger for them. Your scar shows you're strong, a fighter, someone who survived."

I open my mouth, close it, open it, and close it again like a damn fish out of water. Out of all of the things she could have said, that was the last thing I expected. My scars make me a monster. They're ugly, jagged, horrible to look at.

Before I can respond, she tentatively brings the cloth back to my throat and I release her wrist. She continues wiping away the concealer. "I refuse to let my children grow up in a world where our scars are hidden. A photoshopped world of what life is really like. Life is hard, ugly, and painful sometimes, but these scars make us who we are today. My emergency c-section was terrifying. I almost lost Vivian. I almost died. Did you know Native Americans would give a warrior's burial to any woman who died in childbirth?"

I simply stare at her in thinly veiled wonder, my eyes taking in every inch of her perfect skin.

"But I survived. We survived. And because of it, we're stronger. Viv began this life grateful for every day because it almost didn't happen." She gives me a soft smile. Her message is clear. I should be grateful for every day I've lived after that night because these days almost didn't happen.

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