Prey

Packed away behind the empty bottles of soothers, lays the truth of it all. Who would ever choose to take the real mess out and dust it off? Who would want to take one more good strong whiff of the tinny scented blood that dried along the edges? There was just enough. Just enough that it cracked and split perfectly, so allowing the right amount more to ooze through, filling the voids and covering the original injury. Time picked at the scab, insidiously. One more lie, one more dismissal, one more betrayal, and poof it was gone. What remains is a shiny, slightly darker, but brand new layer of skin. This scar's life is new, and laden with promise. It may be joined by others, or it may in fact have grown tough enough to scare away any potential intruders. No one who drags along behind them an expertly disguised bag of weapons, is easy to hide from. They can smell out the wounded, as if they are prey. With toughened scar tissue it becomes the job of the hunted to escape the carpetbaggers, and their deceptive techniques. Ever evading, they keep moving, while watching over a shoulder for the next strike that they can block. With scrunched eyelids, and a protective hunch against the stinging bite of a predatory killer, they win another day for the prey.