Scene

Sorry

The click click of her heels were the only sound that pervaded the abandoned premises. Her hand clutched her phone, it's flashlight combating the darkness of night. She tightened her grip on the designer bag  clutched against her chest as she navigated the neglected land, stepping carefully to avoid a nasty fall.

Her hair fell across her face as she concentrated on the ground, heart beating wildly against the expensive suit she'd worn for fortification.

Her throat was parched as she swallowed,  body trembling as she advanced for a face to face with the past.

Her heart stuttered as she glimpsed the broken swing set, their agreed meeting place.

She saw him first and her steps slowed, everything in her pleading for her to go back home. His back was facing her and he looked sharp in his expensive suit. His shield against her.

Almost against her will, she whispered painfully "I'm" she swallowed and cleared her throat "here"

He stiffened and she could see his hands shake slightly before he put them in his pockets.

Never let anyone know you're scared. They'll just eat you alive.

He was hiding himself from her. It hurt. She pressed her lips together.  It really hurt.

"You're here." he said slowly, as if testing the words. "You're here? " he laughed, the bitterness in it was almost tangible.

"Do you know what I would've given-"

"-Darren" she cut in, hastily. "Let's - let's not do this-"

"-Let's not do what? " he shouted the last part in frustration. "Let's not do what Victoria? " he said, voice desperate and rough.

He turned to her, and her heart felt like it was squeezing itself as she took him in.

His face was still how she remembered him, in his perfect imperfection.

His eyebrows still beautifully arched, his eyes wide and slightly upturned, his nose sharp and straight, his mouth, sculpted in all its edges -and the long scar, from nose to ear-

It was gone.

She gasped like she'd been sucker punched.

"I wait for years and I don't even have the right to say this? "

She continued to stare at him, stare at his scar - the scar that wasn't there anymore.

The scar that felt like home.

The memories came, unwanted.

She traced the thin, dark line on his face, slowly as if  savouring him.

"I hate that scar" he said, pretty eyes taking in her face. "Maybe I'll get it done"

" Don't. It feels like you." she said, eyes drooping, leaning against hin. "It feels like home. "

Those pretty eyes stared at her in a silent challenge, and they knew. He'd gotten it done. He was telling her there was no home. There was no him for her to come back to.