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annaizscribbling · 2 years

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Scars and Their Stories

While on a date, Calypso tells Daniel the story behind one of her scars.

CW: child neglect, blood, knives, animal death, injury

wordcount:1979

Daniel delicately placed his hand atop Calypso’s own.

They were seated on a white bench in the middle of a flower garden. Not a person was in sight. The air was warm, but not too uncomfortably so. The sun had not yet set, but was steadily approaching its upcoming leave of absence. Soon the sky would transform into a streaky mix of oranges and reds and purples and pinks.

The roses were beautiful that day. The red ones especially, but maybe Daniel just favored them because he knew that they were Calypsos favorite. They had collected a small basket of the gorgeous roses. He noticed the way her eyes lingered on them, admiring them with her usual focused intensity. The corners of her lips would tilt upwards when she found something beautiful. It was such a subtle movement, not quite a smile, but something more serene than that. It was a unique type of gentle appreciation. She often made that expression at him, when she thought he was looking elsewhere.

The color of her lipstick was so close to the color of the roses. A luxurious red, painted on with a precision she carried into most aspects of her life. She sometimes left him handwritten copies of her favorite poems, or even just short love letters with a lipstick print beneath it. He’d taken to keeping them in a scrapbook.

She turned her hand over to squeeze his.

Her nails were carefully filed, shaped, and painted to match her lips. Her pale wrist was decorated with a small pearl bracelet. It was hard to imagine what acts she was capable of with those innocent hands. So different from his own.

He squeezed her hand back.

“You picked a perfect place,” Calypso told him, still studying the roses around them. That smile he adored so much began to appear gradually, “I’ll have a difficult time outdoing you for our next date.”

“How about a picnic?” Daniel suggested, leaning a little closer toward her.

“You’d risk another picnic after last time?” Calypso said, raising her eyebrows. She absently fanned herself with the back of her hand, lightly defending herself against the summer evening heat.

Daniel laughed. “I’ll check for rain beforehand next time. It’ll be fine,” he insisted. They were both drenched when they first attempted picnicking. The clearing they were sitting quickly turned to mud, they were a long hike from the car, and each hand packed sandwich became quite soggy before they had a chance to eat any of them

“It’s a deal,” Calypso said, smiling, “So long as we bring an umbrella or two.”

Daniel winked at her, “Deal.”

Calypso shed her light cardigan. It was a white lacey one she had been wearing draped over her shoulders. She had paired it with one of her sleeveless dresses. Daniel was never too good at recalling the names for different styles of dresses, but he knew which dresses she liked to wear the most.

She leaned against his shoulder as she entwined her hands around his. Her soft orange curls brushed against his skin. Daniel rested his head on top of hers, slowly breathing in the scent of her perfume. Floral, though not quite roses.

“How’d you get that scar?’ Daniel asked quietly into her hair. His eyes had drifted downward to her lower shoulder, where she had a strange, puncture wound shaped scar. She had many scars, most acquired over the course of her rather dangerous career. There were thin ones tracing her face, thick ones across her back, small ones scattered over her arms and legs, all of various ages and severity. He never minded the scars, though he would often ask after the stories behind them. If she could remember, she’d describe how she got them. She’d recount the tale with a nostalgic lilt, as she described who shot her stabbed her that time.

“That was one of my first,” Calypso said, freeing one of her hands to lightly trace over the raised skin.

“How old?” Daniel asked.

“Hard to say, maybe around seven or eight,” Calypso mused as she leaned back to rest her head against Daniel again.

“Wow. You were little, huh?”

“Quite. Still with my parents, even,” Calypso closed her eyes for a moment, as if allowing the almost twenty-year-old memory to resurface.

Daniel paused. “Are they the ones who caused that one?”

“Not that one. If anything, I psychologically scarred them with the experience,” Calypso said, a dark amusement ghosting her voice.

“Care to share?”

“Would you like to guess?” Calypso suggested with a playful flutter of her eyelashes.

“Going off of your other scar stories, I doubt I’d be able to,” Daniel scoffed. Stories ranged from falling through the floor of an abandoned warehouse to being shot by a drug dealer disguised as a clown. He had no chance of guessing

“That’s probably true, but I’d be impressed.”

Daniel smiled at her, and her apparent enthusiasm that she had for getting to tell the story. It was always a joy when she was excited, especially when she was excited to tell a story. Or maybe he just found her voice a joy in and of itself.

“As you know of course, my parents mainly left me to my own devices when possible. As a result, I was often out playing in the garden, where few would bother me. The gardener didn’t like me, so he left me alone, and besides him, nobody went out there. The garden was really just for when we hosted dinner parties and needed the space.

“With how large the garden was, and how close we were to the woods, we got quite a lot of little visitors. The fence was mostly for show and did little to actually protect the property. My parents had a home security system, the garden was basically open. The most common visitor we had were the rabbits, little brown ones who would sneak in to nibble at our plants and drink from out fountains. The gardener would chase them off and try to patch the fence, but I would reopen the gaps on his days off.

“I grew to be extremely fond of the rabbits. I liked the company, and the thrill of getting to watch them from afar, with their little white tails and swift speeds, I found them fascinating. I used to wish I could flee with them into the woods to never return, but I managed to settle for just observing. I considered them some type of whimsical friend, of sorts. I suppose I was just that lonely of a child, but it’s a little endearing, in a pitiful way.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Daniel said, squeezing her hand again.

“I know you do,” Calypso smiled. “My point is that I loved those rabbits dearly, and one day, I was up in my room, watching the windows. I spotted one and decided to go out and watch from a closer vantage point. As I was running out the door, I heard the cry of an animal in pain. So, I did what any child would do, and grabbed the nearest sharp rock before sprinting in that direction.

“I found a coyote, standing over the body of one of my beloved rabbit companions. There was blood in the dirt and I was clearly too late to save it. I threw the rock, hitting the coyote hard enough to injure it. I yelled until it got too nervous to stay, so I was left with nothing but the dead rabbit.

“I had never really seen death before, especially one so gruesome as that. I sat down and laid it in my lap, stroking its fur and apologizing for not showing up soon enough. I didn’t cry, I remember that vividly. I did not want to cry. I wanted to avenge my dead rabbit. Then I planned something brutal and elaborate to get what I wanted.

“I understood that to take my revenge, I’d need access to the coyote. Which meant I needed bait. Upon checking the fridge, I didn’t find any raw meat. Instead, I found the sharpest kitchen knife I could, and decided to skin the rabbit.”

Daniel blinked. “You—”

“Yes,” Calypso said, “I skinned the rabbit.”

“You skinned the rabbit,” Daniel repeated slowly.

“Yes. I’m not defending my logic, that’s just what I decided to do.”

“It was your friend,” Daniel said, “Wasn’t it horrifying to skin it?”

“I was trying to avenge it,” Calypso said with a shrug, “The cost did not matter to me.”

“Darling,” Daniel said, taking Calypso’s hands, “If I am ever murdered, do not take revenge by skinning my dead body. Actually, don’t worry about any of the revenge stuff, just take a nap for me or something please.”

“If you insist,” Calypso shrugged, “But it won’t be necessary, because I will not be allowing you to be murdered. Though you have full permission to take revenge on my behalf if I am tragically assassinated. Any means you see fit.”

“… Great,” Daniel sighed, “Anyway, you skinned the rabbit?”

“Right. I did a shoddy job of it, but I managed. I positioned the fur on a mound of rocks and proceeded to scatter the remains into a trail, leading up to the woods. I recall seeing a maid peeking through the windows, watching me, but I guess she kept what she saw to herself. I found an impressively large rock, climbed up a tree with the kitchen knife, and waited. It took most of the day. I recall it approaching evening when the coyote showed up. Looking back now, I don’t even know if it was the same one, but it wouldn’t have mattered to me either way. I pushed the stone when the coyote was close enough before jumping from the tree, landing on the coyote with the knife.”

Daniel silent appalled expression spoke for him.

“It’s a miracle I didn’t die right then,” Calypso said with a chuckle, “I suffered from the fall, but did manage to stab the coyote squarely in the side. It bit me, which is where the scar came from. The rest of it was a bit of a blur of repeatedly stabbing and screaming, but I remember the aftermath vividly.

“My white dress was absolutely soaked in blood, both my own and the coyote’s. I dug a small hole, one that was far too shallow for a grave, but I didn’t know that. I buried the pelt and whatever was left of the rabbit, then grabbed the knife to return it to the kitchen. I was still bleeding profusely. I wandered up the long path back to the house and opened the back door. The sitting room was between me and the kitchen. My parents’ backs were to me, but Hestia had a perfect view of me limping into the room, covered in blood and brandishing a knife. She didn’t react, but just gazed at me as coolly as usual. Finally, I walked forward, terrifying my parents. Mother screamed, my father dropped the wine glass he was holding, though Hestia was as calm as usual.

“I was taken to a doctor as quietly as possible. I ended up with a sprained ankle from the fall, bruising, and one large coyote bite. Most of the blood wasn’t mine, fortunately. All I have is the scar,” Calypso concluded.

“Darling, I would never have guessed that.”

“You could have guessed some of it by the size and shape of the bite,” Calypso said, settling back into Daniel’s side.

“You could guess that type of thing,” Daniel countered, “Because you’re brilliant. But us regular folk probably wouldn’t.”

Calypso plucked a small rose from her basket, then reached up to tuck it behind Daniel’s ear. “You’re anything but regular, Daniel my love,” she whispered.

Together they watched the sunset.

#calypsokimm #danielkimm #oc #writing #anais writes #original character

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