Page 28 of One Step After Another

Drip.

Her gaze traveled over the length of her legs under the water, to the swell of her hips and the way her breasts lifted and fell with each of her breaths. It wasn’t the ghostly shade of her skin that people saw first if they were unlucky enough to see her without her arms and legs covered, but rather the many scars that covered her limbs and stomach.

Crisscrossed marks.

Some red.

Others a faded white.

Penny hadn’t cut in years, but she could still vividly and viscerally remember how it felt and what it did for her.

She had been perfect, once. Her skin unblemished and untouched by a razor or whatever other sharp objects she could use to slice into her flesh. Eventually, cutting had been the one thing that numbed her. Before that, it had been the one thing that freed her.

Because she wasn’t perfect, then.

Nobody wanted a girl that looked like her. The monsters wouldn’t pay for the privilege of ruining something so ... broken.

Where was the fun in that?

But now, the monsters didn’t want her at all, and she was still left with a body full of scars, of imperfections. Funny how the thing that had once been the weapon used against her was now her best weapon against everything—and everyone—else.

To hurt others.

To keep from being hurt.

Penny would have continued to spiral in those hellish thoughts, but the ringing of her phone somewhere outside the bathroom kept her from delving any deeper. The special ringtone told her all she needed to know.

The League was calling.

Work needed to be done.