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Secrets of a Scar

“Hey, where did you get that scar?”
The question came from nowhere. I felt my throat constrict, my mind panicking. My thoughts scrambled for a reasonable excuse. She frowned, “Calvin? Are you okay I just asked about your scar . . .” Not a single suitable reply came to mind so I blurted out the first thing I could think of. “A snapping turtle bit me.” The words blurred together and I said it with such a violent force that it clearly alarmed Lilah. She frowned, pondering my ridiculous excuse. “A snapping turtle bit you?” She repeated doubtfully. Disbelief and anger dripped from her words. Her eyes accused me, they knew I was lying. I felt like they could pierce right through me. I was a fool. Instead of telling her the truth or admitting it was a lie and saying I couldn’t tell her the truth, I simply nodded. “On your neck?” Lilah asked, frowning. I simply nodded. “I went swimming when I was six and tried to play with it.” I was risking her friendship. She wouldn’t understand why I couldn’t tell her the truth unless I actually told her the truth. But I… I just couldn’t tell her. Nobody could know the truth behind my scars.




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