Raised By Scar (18+)

The air in the house was unusually quiet not heavy, just aware.

Like the walls had learned how to listen.

I returned home from school that day with paint stained fingers and a strange peace tucked in my chest. I didn't talk much on the walk back. Not because I was sad but because, for once, my silence wasn't drowning me.

It was breathing.

I was learning to carry my pain differently.

Slower, Softer, Smarter.

POV: Not all scars scream. Some just wait until you're strong enough to look at them.

That night, I stayed longer in the bathroom.

I stood in front of the mirror still, bare, brave. My eyes searched my body like it was a stranger I once knew. My fingers traced the spots where memory had touched me.

Bruises had faded. But they hadn't forgotten.

I whispered, I'm still here.

No trembling. No tears. Just truth.

Josh was in the living room when I stepped out.

Music played low. He was shirtless, scrolling his phone, pretending not to notice me.

But I felt his eyes. I always did.

He looked up once quick, unreadable then back down.

The same boy who stripped me of comfort with a grin.

The same boy who hadn't laid a hand on me since but still filled the air with fear.

This time, I didn't flinch.

I walked past him steady, slow and made myself tea like I owned the moment.

He stood behind me, close enough for me to feel it in my spine.

You look different lately, he said, voice low.

I didn't respond.

He stepped closer.

You're not scared anymore, are you?

I turned to meet his eyes no tremor, no stutter just steel.

I was never scared. I was just broken.

And I walked away.

POV: When you stop being scared of the person who hurt you, you start becoming your own rescue.

🔞🔞🔞

Later that evening, I found Uncle Benny reading in his study.

I stood at the door, debating if I should speak. His earlier words echoed:

We're all family here. Share anything with me.

Now or never.

Uncle… I need to talk to you.

He placed his book down, gave me full attention.

I'm listening, Purity.

And I told him everything.

Josh. The touches. The things he said. The fear. The pain. The part of me that felt robbed of safety.

I expected shock.

Instead he laughed, Lightly at first. Then deeper.

POV: Some laughs don't come from the stomach they come from a place that's never known what it means to be trusted.

That's what's been bothering you all this while? he said, smiling like it was a joke.

Purity, he said quietly, with a voice that didn't ask it insisted. This isn't that big of a deal. What he's doing didn't't it feel good to you? You enjoyed it, whether you admit it or not.

He didn't sound angry. Just calm. Calm in a way that made me question myself.

Stop fighting it. Open up and let yourself enjoy what's already happening. You should consider yourself lucky it's him and not someone else someone outside who wouldn't care what happens to you afterward. At least he knows you, respects the boundary a little. Anyone else might not.

His eyes searched mine for resistance. I had none to give.

You're not a little girl anymore, Purity. At this stage, your body is reacting, needing. You know that. You feel it. You crave touch, even if you're scared to admit it."

I looked down, my throat tightening.

Think about why you came here in the first place. Don't act innocent. You've seen thingspeople in corners, touching, kissing, doing more. You've watched. You didn't turn away." His tone dropped, slow and measured. So the next time he tries… stop freezing up. Let it happen. Give yourself permission to feel something for once.

You've seen people smooching before, haven't you?

He chuckled again.

He paused, then added with a shrug, If it's pregnancy you're worried about, I'll get you pills. That's not a problem.

Just open up to him. Enjoy it.

I didn't speak. I didn't move. My lips were sealed, but my mind was loud.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was overreacting.

I didn't know anymore.

Maybe Uncle Benny had a point. Maybe I needed to stop fighting what was already pulling me under.

I blinked. Stunned.

Had I imagined the kindness he once showed me?

I'll even get you pills so you don't worry. 

My mouth stayed shut. Maybe he was right.

Or maybe I'd been right all along.

The next morning, I wore my uniform and painted on a calm face.

But inside, something had cracked.

Anna and I painted together after school.

She brought over old brushes, snacks, and her endless warmth.

You know, she said, dipping her fingers in blue, you're starting to look like someone who believes in tomorrow.

I smiled softly.

Maybe. Or maybe I'm just tired of yesterday.

We laughed. And for the first time, it didn't feel borrowed.

It was mine.

That night, I picked up my journal.

I added a line beneath all the messy ones I'd written before

I am not what happened to me.

But I am what I choose to become after.

I traced the words over and over. Not to remember to remind.

POV: Healing doesn't ask for permission. It just shows up the moment you stop hiding.

That night, as I curled up in bed, I kept hearing his words.

You should be lucky it's him at this stage, your body needs attention.

It played like a lullaby with knives.

Not loud. But sharp in all the wrong places.

I began to wonder…

What if he was right?

What if this was what growing up meant?

What if pain, silence, and someone else's hands were just part of becoming a woman?

POV: When no one teaches you truth, you start to accept lies that wear gentle faces.

No one told me about the body not in school, not at home.

No one ever sat me down and said, This is yours. You get to say yes. You get to say no."

So I laid there wondering what else I didn't know.

And whose hands would teach me next.

I don't know what tomorrow holds.

Maybe Josh will try again.

Maybe Uncle Benny's words will haunt me longer than the silence did.

Maybe the world isn't ready to believe girls like me.

But I know this 

I'm no longer shrinking to make others feel big.

I'm no longer whispering truth to protect comfort.

I'm still here.

Still rising.

Scarred.

But breathing.