3. Scars

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"Could you tell me I am beautiful, even when my heart, soul and body wears thousands of scars?"

"Could you tell me I am beautiful, even when my heart, soul and body wears thousands of scars?"

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I wince as rays of morning sun tickle my eyes. I groan burying my head in the pillow, feeling absolutely drained out.

There was a stupid drum playing in my head continuously. I sat up cluchting my head and cursing Amaira for manipulating me to go to the club.

I somehow managed to reach the washroom. I didn't even try to check my reflection as I knew I looked like I had barely escaped a zombie apocalypse.

Quickly stripping my clothes off I turn on the shower. Rubbing some coconut-scented shampoo and then conditioner into my hair, I grabbed my loofah deluging it into my body wash before washing my whole body with it.

I then applied some rosemary face wash, which I had been using since forever. I sighed as the hot water cascaded down my long hair, washing my hair gently.

I dry myself, putting on my cute fluffy robe. I then towel dryed my hair as I wasn't a big fan of blow-drying and loved the smell of my conditioner.

After doing some minimal skin care, I stripped off the robe and put on a tank top and shorts.

While doing so, I caught sight of my skin.

Though not as strong as before but there was still some rebuking left as I gazed at my skin, slashes of bright orange and scarlet red burns.

They covered roughly all of my back, few of them on my upper arms and a faded mark on my rib area.

They were messed up as if a psycho has painted his worst painting.

How I want to forget all of this and move on from that incident, but these scars are always there to remind me.

I was drifted back to that night and my I started sobbing quietly. That one night, which took my everything away from me, except for my Vidyut bhai.

I even remember the period of my hospital stay. The strong smell of disinfectants, the continuous stabbing of those painful injections and the horrendous sight of my injury at the time of re-wrapping of bandages.

There was a particular nurse, middle aged and wrinkled, witn her dark, curious and kind eyes. She used to constantly reassure me that my burns are not so bad since I didn't required a skin graft.

I blinked my tears, replaying Bhai's words in my head - "The scars are a part of you champ and you are beautiful just the way you are."

And with time, I embraced myself with these scars of mine, telling myself once in a while that I am perfect.

Selena Gomez says you're perfect. Oh yeah.

After a few minutes of collecting myself, I opened my eyes and smiled at my reflection.

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