Lust Contracts novel Chapter 19

“If you want a perfect husband, you have to start by being a perfect bride! Listen to me!” my mother started shouting.

I knew that the reason why I was hanging on to this scar didn’t make any sense at all, but I just couldn’t bring myself to erase it.

“I have a headache. I’m going to sleep now; I have a test tomorrow…” I mumbled before turning away.

“You can’t avoid this forever! Elena!” my mother shouted after me.

I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could and headed for the sanctuary of my own bedroom. Closing the door behind me and locking it firmly so that I could hide away from my mother. Her shouting seemed far away now. Running away was the option that I always chose so that I wouldn’t have to fight with her directly. She’ll get busy with other things, and she’ll forget about this scar on my back.

After entering the bathroom, I started stripping in front of the mirror. Turning my back towards the mirror and glancing over my shoulder, I could see the thin patch of scar on my back from the reflection in the mirror. True, it wasn’t hideously ugly, but it was still a scar. I got this scar from the fire that burnt down the entire orphanage building. Honestly, I remembered very little about the events of that day. Whenever I tried to recall what had happened, I would get an unbearable headache. Ultimately, I stopped trying to recall it all together. After all, there was absolutely no good reason to recall what had happened in the past without a way to go back to fix it.

Although, I didn’t remember anything much about that day, I remembered that an older guy saved me from the fire and because of that he was hospitalized after the incident. Apart from the burn on my back and other small cuts here and there, I had no other noteworthy injuries. That was probably because of him shielding me from the fire. Whenever, I looked at or ran my fingertips on the scar, I would be reminded of him.

It's ironic but this scar is the only thing that I had left to remind me of my previous life at the orphanage and the only thing that I had to remember my savior by. The truth was that I didn’t even remember his name or his face clearly anymore. As the years went by, I remembered less and less about him until I forgot about him almost completely. What did he look like? What did his voice sound like? How gentle was his touch when he held my hand?

I couldn’t recall anything…

It made me wonder if I erased this scar, would I lose all connections that I had to my past and to him?

It scared me for reasons that I couldn’t quite understand myself. After being adopted, I never went back to the orphanage again because I knew that I wasn’t allowed to even without asking. To my parents, the fact that I was adopted was something shameful.

“Don’t ever let anyone find out that you were adopted. They’ll look down on you,” my mother warned sternly.

“Yes, mother,” I replied obediently.