The One With Whisky Eyes

Black Words and Silver Scars

Opening her apartment door only enough to slip through, Iris immediately locked the deadbolts behind her as a long sigh blew passed her lips. "Why did I think that was a good idea?" she muttered to herself as her head fell back against the door with a barely audible thud. "I'm insane." Pushing off the door and stepping into the tiny space of her apartment, barely enough to be called that since it was one large room with a tiny washroom the only space separate from the kitchen/bedroom, Iris carefully unbuttoned her coat and moved to the closet to hang it up.

Even the closet was just an open alcove with a bar that she'd hung—nearly taking her finger off because she was not a handy person.

Ducking into the kitchen portion of the apartment to make herself a tea, Iris hoped it would be enough to calm her frayed nerves before she had to go to work that evening. When speaking with Dr. Fletcher on the phone, she'd decided that it was best to meet with the woman before she had to go to work instead of taking up her next day off. Of course, now she wished that she had not gone to the building at all but if she had she really should have done so on her day off.

Her hands trembled when she filled her kettle with water and placed it on the stovetop, causing some of it to splash out onto her hand. Immediately shaking the water off of her mark, Iris flinched like she'd been burned. The thinness of her hand meant that when she spread her fingers out to look more closely at the mark, her tendons lifted beneath her skin and rippled the words.

Even after everything that she had been through when she was younger, up until she had finally had enough and ran away from home, Iris did not hate her marks. Many times she had sought comfort from them, and even strength. They had withstood so much from her parents; she figured that she could as well. If they were strong enough, deep enough, that her parents couldn't ruin them or destroy them then she could survive it as well.

Tracing over the neat writing, with the ring finger of her other hand, Iris smiled faintly.

The smile didn't last, however, as the reality of what had happened returned to the forefront of her mind. She had met her soulmate today—or one of them, at least—and she had been absolutely horrible to him. Not only were her first words to the poor man those of rejection, but she had run away from him as well. None of her marks were rude or aggressive, so she could only imagine what he must have felt by her reaction to hearing what he said.

That was not how she expected meeting her soulmate to go.

Whatever had made her say those words only caused regret and despair to claw at her insides now, wishing for nothing more than the chance to take those words back.

A few people she had met over the years had told her stories of their marks, some of which were a statement of rejection. That rejection wasn't always sorted out and they were left disconnected from a soulmate that didn't want them. A friend she had in her early high-school years, prior to running away, had the mark that said 'come on, of all people it had to be you?' on her leg. Iris couldn't remember ever seeing her friend in shorts, keeping her mark covered just like Iris's.

"I'm a horrible person," she whispered to the mark on her hand, clenching it into a fist.

Abruptly stepping back from the counter, Iris pulled off the sweater she had thrown on before she'd left earlier, followed by the long-sleeved undershirt, and soon stood in her bra as she looked down at the scratchy writing on her bicep. Stroking her fingers along the skin, thankfully one patch that didn't hold scars from her parents.

The sudden ring of her cellphone jerked her out of her thoughts so abruptly that she leapt in place, hand clutching at the mark on her arm as though desperate for it. Abandoning the small kitchen in favour of snatching her cellphone from the pocket of her coat, relieved that she'd set it on ring otherwise she never would have remembered where it was, Iris pulled it out and glanced briefly at the lit screen.