Her Street Fighter

09.

Chapter Nine
Marebela

"I want to wear a ribbon in my hair," I said. "Step mother would never let me but she would always let my stepsisters."

Gunn got the bags we left at the bakery the other day thankfully the owner of the bakery kept it in her office at the back.

Gunn was very rude to the owner though because she gave him a hard time. He just took the bags forcefully out of her hands and stormed out of the bakery.

I apologized to the manager on behalf of him because she seemed like a nice lady.

I was currently trying on the stuff he bought me and looking at myself in the mirror. I would go into the bathroom to change since that was the only mirror he had in his whole apartment.

I took off the dress and looked at my exposed body in the mirror. Scars from cuts and slashes were all over my back and legs.

My stepmother took her anger out on me sometimes. She would be drinking wine and all of a sudden she became a different person not that she was much different when she wasn't drinking wine. She just became more violent.

Every time l looked at the scars, the longer I wanted to never go back to my stepmothers house. She would always get so angry at everything I did but never her real daughter.

I have never been away for this long, almost three days. If she ever found me I would never see the light of day ever again.

She would kill me.

But now here I was in this stranger bathroom, pathetically drowning and wallowing in self pity. I hated my scars, they were ugly and made me feel worthless.

How could someone love me if I had this hideous markings on me?

I looked away from the mirror and tried to avoid it the best I could.

"A ribbon?" He hummed it, but he was too busy making breakfast to look at me.

Gunn was making breakfast for me before he went to the restaurant because yesterday he left without waking me up and I didn't know if I could eat anything.

"Yes! Preferably light pink. It will look so pretty with my hair colour. I can tie it in my hair in a nice hairstyle so my hair isn't in my face all the time," I explained.

I changed into comfortable clothes, light grey sweatpants and a white tank top shirt that I saw and I immediately loved in the window of a shop.

"Who's working at the restaurant right now?" I asked curiously. "Aren't people waiting for breakfast?"

I could tell he hated when I asked questions because he wasn't much of a talkative person. He would rather sit in silence then create small talk.

He flipped the egg on the frying pan perfectly. He was such a good chef.

I was thankful he even bothered to make me food. The least I could do was abide his rules and stop trying to get him to talk.

"My friend," he said flatly. Nothing else but since he answered I was sure I could say one more thing.

"You have friends?" I teased him.

I couldn't see his face but I can only picture the grouchy expression on his face.

He went silent after that and guilt clawed up into my throat.

I didn't mean to make him sad it was supposed to be a harmless joke.

"I'm just joking," I tell him quickly. "Anyone would be happy to be your friend. I'm happy to be your friend."

He put the egg on a black plate and then the other one right beside it. He put two pieces of toast on the side and a bunch of small breakfast fries on the side.