Beautifully Scarred

Chapter 1

"May I have this dance Mrs. Crestmen?"
Amelia looked up into Devon's warm sparkling green eyes. "Of course you may Mr. Crestmen." She slid gingerly out of her chair, all the while keeping her eyes locked onto the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Devon wrapped his muscular arms around Amelia's small waist pulling her to his side, while guiding her to the dance floor. The song started, and he swept her across the dance floor as if he had been dancing his entire life. Amelia knew this was not true, because she had asked him to take dance classes with her before the wedding. Although he was very talented when it came to the football field, he wasn't talented on the dance floor. Amelia giggled as thoughts of the many weeks of dance sessions played in her mind, and of how many times this sweet man had stepped on her toes, while practicing. He massaged, and iced her sore toes and for that she was grateful.
"Now what's so funny, Mrs. Crestmen? I know it cannot be my dancing since I took twenty grueling hours of dance classes so I could sweep you away on our wedding night!" He said with a smile playing on his lips.
She giggled again, then replied, "Mr. Crestmen I love you more than you possibly know."
To which he replied, "You couldn't possibly love me as much as I love you, Mrs. Crestmen."

Shit, this was supposed to be a relaxing evening, and here I am lying in my nice warm bubble bath crying over yet another book. I snapped my book shut and set it down on the closed toilet seat.
"Get over it, there is never going to be a man like that for you." I shook my head at the thought.
Grabbing a wash cloth I poured my favorite pomegranate soap on it. Absentmindedly, I washed my body...if only there was a man like Devon, so in love with me like Devon is with Amelia. Pffh, there will never be a man like Devon, strong in just the right places and soft right where he needs to be. Running the water I stood up and rinsed the conditioner out of my hair. Damn, I hope my hair doesn't look oily in the morning because I left the conditioner in too long. I quickly rinsed my body, and then shut the water off. Grabbing my towel wrapping it tightly around my body before wrapping my hair into another towel, I flossed and brushed my teeth while trying to peek through the fog on the mirror. As I was drying my hair I tried to think of what I could do until it was time to go to bed. It was seven-thirty and I was a little bit sleepy, but I wasn't ready to climb in bed yet.
"Oh, I can watch the new Grey's Anatomy!" I shrieked, scaring Davy, my dog.
"Oh Davy, you know momma gets excited about Grey's Anatomy, and the steamy doctors on there." I tell her as I pet my little Yorkie.
Drying off quickly in front of my full length mirror, I allow my towel to drop to my feet, exposing my naked body to my waiting eyes. I ran my hands through my long, shiny, blonde hair that was flowing freely down my back. I stared into my bright, blue eyes, framed with exceedingly long black eyelashes. They were quite a contrast to my pale white skin. I had been told many times I was quite beautiful. My eyes drifted lower to my breasts, a petite girl standing at only five feet two inches, a size nine, my natural double D breasts stood out. I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and then reopened them. My therapist said that acceptance was an important part of coming to terms with what happened to me. As I lowered my gaze I caught sight of the dark purple scars that marred my torso. I couldn't stop the pool of tears that welled up in my eyes, as unwanted memories rushed into my mind. I still vividly remember the smell of the whiskey on the unmasked man's breath. As he leaned over me, I made eye contact with his dark brown eyes, and he said with a thick Spanish accent, "Your breasts are much too perfect to ruin, so I will be gentle with them." All the while a smile playing on his lips.
I found it hard to breathe through the anxiety I was feeling. My breasts had only a handful of light scars, whereas down my abdomen the scars got longer and deeper, much like my back. I angrily grabbed the vitamin E oil and rubbed it roughly onto my breasts, abdomen, and as much of my back and buttocks as I could reach. Then I dressed quickly in loose sweats and a baggy t-shirt. I wondered when this would ever get easier. It had been a year and a half already. I still go to therapy once a week and I do everything the therapist recommends, but still nothing gives. I'm angry that I let this affect me this way after all this time.
.
.
.
BEEPBEEPBEEP
"Ugh, already?" I dragged myself out of bed and slapped at my alarm, as I slid my glasses on with my other hand. Yawning, I flipped on the light, getting a glimpse of Davy peeking out from under the covers.
"Must be nice Davy, to not have to go to work." I laughed as I went to my closet and grabbed the first pair of scrubs I found. I dressed methodically, and then slipped on my shoes. Walking into the bathroom I flipped on the light, catching the first glimpse of myself in the mirror.
GOD, why did I watch that show? I knew he was going to die; now I have freaking bags under my eyes from crying all night.
"Just freaking great," I mumbled.
After a short eight hour shift-- yeah not short I know-- most people work eight hours a day, but I'm a nurse and eight hours is a blessing. I was relieved that my shift at the hospital was shortened. Working in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit in the biggest hospital in town was normally demanding. A full twelve hour shift usually wipes me out with all the sick babies that I take care of. It amazes me how strong the families I work with in the N.I.C.U. truly are, but a break is needed especially when you have been on your feet all day long. So, an eight hour shift I will gladly accept. Plus, it allows me to have dinner with my older sister Ava, and her kiddos.
I skipped out to my car, excitedly, knowing that I was on my way to Ava's house, and I might even make it there in time to go with her to pick-up my niece Cameron, from school. I pull off my scrub top and then I roll down all four windows in my pearl white Toyota Avalon. I turned on my radio, blasting it all the way to my sister's house, my long, wavy, blonde hair blowing wildly in the wind.
"MIR! MIR! MIR!" My adorable chubby nephew with an abundance of blonde hair, spiked in a little Mohawk, and piercing blue eyes yells as he runs towards me. He throws his little arms around my legs. Begging me to pick him.
"Guess what Maddox?" I ask, before peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses, making him squeal a little.
"What?" He replies as he twirls a strand of my curly hair around one of his chubby little fingers.
"I love you." I coo to him.
"I wove ooutooo," he gibbers back to me.
I place a kiss on his forehead and set him down so he can continue to play with his trains on the living room floor.
"Hey sis, how was your day?" I ask, as I plop down on her oversized chair.
"Well, it's busy keeping track of this little guy.'' We both laugh, as we watch Maddox try to climb on top of the entertainment center like the cat. Ava was already on her feet to stop the little daredevil.
"Yeah, he is an active two year old to say the least. I'm glad I got here in time to pick-up Cameron."
Ava bent down picking up Maddox. "Come on baby, let's go get sissy." She placed a kiss on the top of his head as we walk outside. Ava lifted Maddox and placed him in his bike; it was a beautiful day, so we walked to get Cameron from school.
.
.
.
Samantha convinced me to go out tonight, not that I don't love to go dancing I do, I'm just more of the stay at home type of girl. Sam insisted yesterday that we go shopping for something to wear for me tonight. I am placing the last earring in my ear as I assess my overall appearance. My long blonde hair is loosely curled hanging freely down my back and sides. I am wearing a tight black dress that leaves nothing to imagination. My breasts are barely contained. I had to do a double take though, I looked stunning. Sam has a knack for picking out clothes for me, if I can put up with her for that long.
Knock, knock.
Running down the stairs I pull open the door and see my beautiful curly blond friend standing there with a skin- tight, short red dress on in the highest, black fuck-me heels known to mankind. She's stunning. Her makeup is flawless, every strand of hair in place, model type--complete opposite of me.
"Hey Sam." I say, letting her in.
"Are you ready to party?" She shouts, drawing party out longer than was necessary.
Oh boy, it's going to be that kind of night, I think to myself.
"Yep, let me slip on my shoes." I turn and run back upstairs to my room.
"You look incredible, Mira. Hopefully you're wearing fuck- me heels with that dress!" Sam says with enthusiasm.
"Thanks Sam. You look amazing too! But you know me..., my sparkly flats will do," I holler from my room.
"Pfft!" Sam exclaims.
"If you keep it up Sam, I will wear my Converse you love so much." I laugh as I spray perfume on my chest and neck. "Ok, I'm ready. Who's the DD?"
"David is waiting in the car, Amber is meeting us at the club." Samantha replies.
"David?" I choked. "Why didn't you tell me David was coming, Sam?"
"Amira, I knew you wouldn't come, and besides, David is a good guy. So he made some mistakes." Sam shrugs.
I groan as I walk out to the car. The night just got longer.