A Prompt Anthology

Scar

"He-" The words got caught in my throat as I fought back tears. "He had this scar that, for the longest time, I just couldn't see. He would point to his temple and say that it's "right here". As a kid I would take that at face value and go looking for it under his hair but all I would ever find is the smooth skin of his temple. I'd call him a liar and his response would always be the same: I just wouldn't understand until I was older.

"And you know what, he was right. The secret to his scar was to be weathered by the world; such a pretentious thing to say but he loved to say it. I still remember the day I began to figure out what that meant. We were at Nan's old house, celebrating her birthday I think. I had been excited to see family I didn't get to see very often and at first I was enjoying myself. But then, I don't know, something in me just kind of- it was like a switch had been flipped inside of me and I was desperate to get away. It was easier than I thought and I found a quiet spot inside to hide away for a while.
"Not sure how long I got away with it before Pop found me though. He started off the conversation with mundane small talk, questions to kind of ease me into the big one of what was wrong. I always appreciated that about him, he would know how to help you by figuring out what you needed before trying to help. He took the time to listen first.
"We talked for a long time and towards the end I noticed he had gone quiet. At first I was a little worried. He was already fairly old at that point and our family history tends to be unkind on our minds as we age, but then he turned and looked me right in the eye. I realised then that he had gone quiet to make sure he knew what he said was worded properly and it is what I leave with you:
"What you're feeling now, is just the beginning. When you're alone it will drown you but when you turn to others, like me, its hold on you will falter. You too may end up with a scar like mine, perhaps even many of them, but it's not-" The door to the hall was kicked in with an echoing thud. Mourners gasped and turned in disgust towards the interruption. An intimidating trio of men dressed in dark red suit jackets and matching pants, strolled in with a clear purpose known only to them.
"What are you-" Two of them stopped at the edge of the stage, whilst the other, eyes focused solely on me, climbed up with an ease I found unsettling to stand beside me. Without a word he pushed the microphone over and leaned in close to me.
"You are to come with us quickly and quietly and without complaint."

Needless to say they didn't take no for an answer and now I'm sitting in this chair, facing a man who introduced himself as The Messenger. He's leaning against the wall behind the desk, tapping his foot impatiently, and looking towards the door.
"What's going on? Please?" The Messenger looked at me over the top of his sunglasses. I couldn't help feeling like a speck of dirt on his newly cleaned car, being scrutinized about my history of how I got there. The door opened and one of the other suits from the funeral walked in carrying a laptop.
"Get that set up."
"Sir!" The Messenger pushed away from the wall and sat across from me at the desk, waiting patiently. He removed his sunglasses, taking great care to place them to his left, once his suited friend had left. I am afraid to break the silence between us. His eyes were focused on mine and I felt an uncomfortable sensation on the back of my neck, like a dozen needles being pushed through into the top of my spine. And as quickly as it began, the sensation stopped and The Messenger leaned back in his chair.
"Ma'am, we apologise for our tactics but we had to ensure that you wouldn't refuse."
"It was my grandfather's funeral! What was so important it couldn't wait?"
"This." He turned the laptop around and I stand quickly, knocking over the chair. Paused on the screen was a young man that I had only seen in photographs before. Tears began to well of their own accord.
"Pop." The word was weak and shaky as it was spoken. Without another word, The Messenger pressed play.

"12-7-XBC: Hale. I'm a test subject for Ibergine Industries. I was not coerced, bribed or forced into this decision in any way that would conflict with the standards put forward by the Ethical Scientific and Simulation Advocates Committee of Earth Four.
"Now the wordy legal stuff is out of the way... I've signed myself up for an operation to help with my... problem. Regardless of the results my daughter and her new family will be compensated. She wasn't happy about this but in the end she understood why I had to at least try. There's some information here." He began to search through a pile of papers in front of him. "That-umm-explains... Ah! Here it is. They say they can 'heal any psyche and leave only a scar, a lasting reminder that things get better.' Pretty poetic for scientists. Not that I've met many scientists in my life mind you. Doesn't really say what they'll do specifically just that it's going to be an operation. They probably don't want us talking about it on these pre-op videos while it's still being tested, I guess.
"And lastly, a bit of personal business needs to be taken care of. Firstly, to my daughter: I'm sorry I've not been there like I should. There's no excuse for neglecting you the way that I have done. Your father wasn't just taken from me, he was taken from you too, and I hope that this will help me-"