The scars' story.

A teenage girl regains consciousness in a courtyard style space. Her arms are tied to a post making her do a t-formation, standing on her feet. The back of her shirt is shredded remnants lay on the ground around her. 

 The red headed Brutor shakes her head as she tries to get her senses to come back to herself. Her arms ach to be untied, her back screams still feeling the sting of the whip. 

Murmuring to herself, “How long was I out, how many lashes was it this time?” 

One of the other servants comes out from the manor and starts to undo her arms. As both arms get finally unbound, she staggers down to her knees. 

The one that untied her offers her a hand and the girl raises her hand and shakes her head. “No, I got this.” 

She slowly rises to her feet after about 30 minutes, her face grimacing in pain but she takes a unsteady breath as her ice blue eyes flicker around. Understanding that she is alone, her family isn’t with her, she is a slave but one day, one day she will dance across the stars and break the shackles that bind her. 

She casts a glance over her shoulder as she slowly moves to the one place where she knows they wont look for her tonight, they usually leave her alone after she gets whipped for a few hours. She looks up at the stars as the night sky becomes clear she murmurs “Save me.” 

She remembers that time vividly, as she stands in front of a full-length mirror in her home her back to it, showing the thick layer of scars on her back. From the tops of her shoulders all the way down to under the waistline of her pants. There are years upon years of scars layered on her back. 

She lifts a handheld mirror in front of her face as she looks at the scars through that mirror. Literia remembers being asked if she wanted her scars removed her back and it was almost instinctive and a resounding no out of her almost immediately. 

She was asked why she wouldn’t get those scars removed. She looked at the doctor with a beyond the years of wisdom in her eyes. “Each scar is a story, each scar shows that I survived what tried to kill me and break me. Everyone of those marks remind me of how strong I am, that even as a child going through that I still got up, I continued on, doesn’t show me as a victim but as a survivor. I fought my battles and I wear them with pride."

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"You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice." 

"Scars are not a sign of weakness, they are signs of survival and endurance" - Rodney Winter

"Not all scars are visible. Regardless, they are usually painful when you first get them. But with time they might fade or they can remain and become a beautiful reminder... that you survived."