The Understudy of an Alchemist

74. Eugene's Concerns

One thing that I quickly realised is that red upon red is not the best look.

The dress looked ten times more beautiful out of the box than it did when it was wrapped up, if that were even possible, yet the one thing that was ruining everything was my scarf, that stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, my boots didn't really match that much either, but that wasn't exactly something that I could change.

I hesitated now, staring at my reflection in the mirror, or more accurately the matching scarf that she had tied around her neck. I had been wearing it for so long, almost half a year now, to the point that I didn't even remember what my neck used to look like. There was no point in picturing though, because I knew that it would never look the same again. It had been marked, imprinted by that horrible knife to leave an ugly scar as a reminder that I knew would never leave my body again.

It was strange, because I had seen former soldiers and guards, almost flaunting their scars as if they were badges of honour, rather than imperfections to their skin. But that was different. Theirs were proof of their strength. Mine was proof of my weakness. Exhaling and inhaling sharply to try and prepare myself, I slid my fingers under the scarf and whipped it off with one swift motion, my shoulders tensed in anticipation.

Of course, it wasn't as if I had never seen the scar before. I'd seen glimpses of it when I changed into my nightgown, or when I bathed, but never had I actually outright stared at it. And that was what made this occasion so special. It was a somewhat thick, 9 centimetre long white line, that was much straighter than I'd pictured in my mind. The skin surrounding it was more pinkish then the rest of my skin, and it was puckered and shiny.

Tilting my head from side to side in order to catch a look of it from each angle, I tried to banish the history of how it had got there from my mind, and instead simply ponder my opinion of how it looked. Was it ugly?? It was indeed a sight to say the least, but it wasn't as easily visible as I pictured it to be. It was actually quite close of a tone to the rest of my skin.

Still, it was noticeable nonetheless. I began to fiddle with the material in my hands, as the judgmental thoughts flooded back in. Everyone will see it. Everyone would stare. They'd all wonder how I got it, Had she fallen down the stairs as a tike? Or had she done it herself for attention???

I retied the scarf as fast as humanly possible, upon the point of hyperventilating. "No." I whispered to myself, voice hoarse. "I won't let them see."

And there the red piece of cloth lay, clashing horribly with the rest of the beautiful dress, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. I didn't have the luxury of taking it off as everyone else assumed. I wasn't doing this for the purpose of vanity.

I just didn't want to see it.

Shifting my gaze back over to the mirror, my reflection stared coldly back, arms crossed tightly and looking like she was disappointed in me somehow. I sighed now, as I tilted my head to one side, which my reflection did the same, her expression softening, lips parted as if she were trying to say something, yet couldn't bring herself to do so.

Both of our eyes fell back down to the scarf bound tightly around my neck. Wistfully fiddling with the edge of it, I remade eye contact with her, feeling just as exasperated as she looked. "I'm sorry." I whispered, and went to say more, before stopping myself at the last minute, realising that I was talking to myself like a lunatic.

Staring intently into the dark brown eyes that gazed sorrowfully back into my own one final time, I ran a hand through the strands of ebony, and tugged the cord attached to the kerosene lamp with a flourish, and the girl in the mirror was extinguished into darkness.