Tokyo Ghoul Imagines

☕︎ Kaneki Ken: your soulmate's scars appear on your body ☕︎

At first, it was a penny-sized scar on your knee, adorable in how small it was and a marvel for your mum. When she noticed she fluttered across the home with your four-year-old body and showed any of your siblings she could find across the house. It was a remarkable day, the day you received your first scar, much like when you saw your first words or learn to talk. It was a joyous day that your comically overprotective dad and brothers couldn't help but distrust. A scar this young wasn't common but not so rare simultaneously, but it was something still to ponder.

When you entered primary school you showed your scar off like a medal, your face beaming as you raised the cuff of your jeans and wobbled your knobbly knee so your peers could get a good look. It was something everyone grew to adore and love about themselves as they knew then that they weren't meant to walk the Earth alone.

It's only when you came to the age of eleven when you settled down your boasting manner as everyone else began to earn their scars. They were all different and beautiful, one girl's even made her look like Harry Potter with the thin, silver line running down the centre of her forehead. But, it was also around this time that you began to get small scars on your knees and heels of your hands as if you had been pushed to the ground repeatedly until the iridescent skin closed the wounds. You couldn't put two and two together until you walked home and saw a classmate of yours being beaten down by bullies. That had to be the reason for the new scars you thought and you were disappointed to know people like that even existed.

Looking back, it was ignorant to think that that could be the worse possible way to get scars.

It was the eve of Halloween when you last went to sleep with the majority of your body scarless. After that, they littered your skin until you cried every time you looked in the mirror before eventually throwing your fist through the glass. It was the shatter that shocked your household and had your mum and dad rushing in your room to see the damage. To think that would be the last of it would be a dream and in the week leading up to Christmas, they only got worse.

Scars littered your face as if it had been smashed in with a hammer and around your ears, fingers and toes there were uneven rings like they'd been sawed off continuously until there were bare stubs left. It was the same across your body and the worse was your nails with the tops having tears like they'd been ripped out. These all appeared before the happiest holiday in your household.

You remember coming down the stairs that morning completely numb, your body practically mutilated.

"Oh good (Y/N) you're awake!" Your mum cheered from the stove, her body light as she skipped around her station to Wham!. For your whole life, you wanted her to remain with her back to you, for her to forever remember you as a scarless, beautiful human being instead of this monstrous creature you now were. It was only when you refused to answer that she faced you.

The only word you could find to describe her expression was horrified. Forgetting the spatula, she dropped it to the ground and cupped her trembling hands across her mouth as she screamed in hysteria. It ricocheted off the walls and assaulted your eardrums but you could understand.

All that ran through your mind then was your soulmate. Was he okay? Of course, that was such a silly question to ask, he definitely wasn't. The pain he was probably enduring was unimaginable for you and you could only silently stand on the linoleum of your kitchen and wait for your family to respond to your mother's wailing cries.

"My baby" she sobbed before she approached with fragile steps and held you close to her chest. The smell of her clothes was reminiscent of a time when you weren't hideous; when you were completely normal and flashed your scars with pride. Now, there was nothing to hide them when you wanted to.