Clearly she'd been cut, but not by a surgeon. There was a jagged mark beneath her collarbone. There was a crescent shaped scar that I somehow knew was from a broken bottle. Bar room brawl or sadistic lover, the scar had a story all it's own, I was sure. I wasn't sure if it was better than the story that accompanied the bruises on her wrists. It looked as if she was just recovering from a nasty rope burn. There was another variety of burn on her shoulder-blade. As she'd slid out of her coat, baring her shoulders earlier, I'd noticed what looked like a brand etched into her with a coat hanger and white heat. With so many scars and stories, I knew she wasn't a delicate flower. She'd earned every scar and wore them proudly. Her body was a road map of pain, and her fingers had traced every angry red line that was raised across her ebony flesh. I can't say I bothered to ask her name. In the weeks that followed, it became my obsession, that name I never thought to get. It would have made it. " You do?" I asked."Yep, she's a little older than you, but I think you might enjoy her company." Mom said."Who is she?" I said excitedly."Me, silly boy, now what time does our movie start?" She asked."Mom, you don't have to feel sorry for me." I said."Don't you tell me what I can or can't feel young man. I asked you a question." She said sternly.I smiled at her."It starts at 8." I answered.She looked at her watch and jumped up."Then I better get ready or we're gonna be late." She said."What about dad?" I asked."Your father has to be at the office early in the morning, he'll be off to bed soon. Besides, you're my date, remember?" She said with a wink.I waited for mom downstairs and made small talk with my father as he watched the game. Mom finally came down the stairs and she looked stunning. She was in a white mini-skirt and a matching halter-top that made her boobs look huge. The tap of her dainty high-heeled sandals clicked against the floor. They were nothing but a six-inch heel.
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