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Scars Take Time to Fade.
It all began when I noticed the scar on his forehead, a memory within me struggled to resurface but it was buried so deep that I could not say with certainty it was real. I struggled to sit up, holding the sides of my hospital bed I finally managed to, I squinted, all the drugs in my veins making it hard for me to focus. The man sitting at the foot of my hospital bed had short, grey hair that matched his stormy grey eyes. His brow was furrowed which made the crescent scar even more prominent.
He began chuckling softly at my confused expression as I struggled to decipher who he was. My heart was telling me that I knew him but my mind refused to co-operate. “Who are you?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. Instead of answering my question he offered me the glass of water on my bedside table. Slightly exasperated, I held the glass with both my hands and sipped slowly, making sure not to move the tube connected to my arms.
“You have grown so much Noah,” he said, speaking slowly in order to help me comprehend him, “the last time I saw you was when you could barely talk,” he paused to laugh, “but again, you can barely talk now.”
I allowed my mind to race and tried my best to recall the memory of his scar. The suspense nearly killing me. When suddenly it all came back, the sirens blaring, blue and red lights lighting up the entire house. Abruptly, I remember hiding in my room. I remember watching as the police shoved him into their vehicle, I remember him looking at my bedroom window as he mouthed the words, “I love you.” The last thing I remember was the scar on his forehead, shining in the headlights.
I looked up at him, overwhelmed. All of a sudden, I was too aware of everything. The smell of the hospital burnt my nose, the harsh white lights hurt my eyes, the beeping of the heart monitor was too loud, and the bedsheets too soft. Stunned, I dropped the glass of water, everything was happening too fast. The man looked shocked as he called for the nurse, using the strength that remained in me, I held his hand. I looked at his face and my gaze settled on the scar. “Dad.” was all I could manage to say before the smell disappeared, the white lights dimmed and the beeping of the monitor was silenced.
It all began when I noticed the scar on his forehead, and that is how it all ended.
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Hello, my name is Swasti and I really enjoying writing. This short story I wrote was inspired by the prompt, "It all began when I noticed the scar on his forehead..." which was provided to me by my english teacher. I hope you like it.