1. The Tales From The Tavern: I Lust After Your Scar


    Date: 8/18/2015, Categories: Love Stories, Author: el_henke, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    bar counter, waved it, and asked for a vodka glass filled to the brim with pure, colorless Russian spirit chilled below freezing point. "Back to the story!" ------------- So I woke up, right? My eyes were fuzzy. It took me a while to realize that only one of them worked anyway, and even a longer while to figure out why that was. There was that huge questionnaire I mentioned before rumbling in my head. I'm not gonna get through all of that again, okay? Yet, these questions were causing me the mother of a headache. I tried to mumble a few words, but the stinging pain all over the right side of my face wouldn't allow me to. I wanted to scream out from the pain caused by my overhasty attempt to speak, but tearing my mouth open only stretched my wounds, intensifying the pain like salt, or even lemon juice. Dad was close to bursting out in tears; I could tell that, although my sight hadn't improved a bit. He handed me a mirror. I wondered why, and yet I was afraid of what I might find in there. I didn't want to look in that mirror at first, not to mention to face the truth. What would I see? Was it really so bad? What would be so bad? My head was suddenly flooded by flashbacks. Snapshots. Tiny, stationary fractions of time. Powerful. Brutal. Violent. With that came the panic, the sweating, the adrenaline. I didn't want to look into that mirror. I knew my heart would burst. I knew I couldn't take that picture of how my face had to look like, deducing from the soaring pain in my ...
    face, and my neck. With my hands shaking, almost incapable of holding the mirror, I finally mustered the courage to lift the treacherous reflecting glass to my face, but kept my eyes firmly closed. I didn't want to see this. I hesitantly opened my broken right eye first, still wondering why it wouldn't give an image. Then, I peeked through the lid of my left eye, anxious of what it might detect in the mirror. The blurred sight shocked me enough to open it all the way. Luckily, my eyesight had still not adjusted, but the image was enough to answer at least the question of the missing right half of my vision. I closed my eyes again, rubbed them. I could only rub the left one, for the right half of my face including my right eye was covered by a thick compress . What had happened to my face? How bad would it really look underneath that sterilized cloth? More panic overcame me. My whole body got out of control. I felt Dad grab my hand firmly to calm me down, let me know he was there. It was futile, for I thrashed my limbs in all directions, trying to free myself from my bed, screaming, yelling, hitting my desperately crying Dad until I felt a sting in my neck, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep again. The next time I woke up, I was strapped to the bed. My memories were even more blurred now that I had been tranquilized a few hours earlier. Dad was still there. My injured classmate was with him. My eyesight came back – clear this time. The flute players in my head were still ...
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