Work Text:
It’s when Abigail undresses, that John sees.
For the first time, he believes. He doesn’t know when or how she got them, but she’s got scars. They stretch, nastily, from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back. It’s now, that John notes how the woman has never turned her back to John whilst she was undressed, and today was the first time.
He doesn’t make a noise, instead watching, before frowning when the woman immediately notices his gaze on her back. Abigail seems surprised, as if she hadn’t meant to show John. The man lowers his head, not watching any longer.
Silence passes, before Abigail speaks, a gentle tone, “Well, ain’t you gonna say anything?”
John blinks at the ground, before looking up at her. She seems a bit shy now, but still stands proud, eyeing John carefully. John finds himself asking, “What would I say?”
The woman huffs, as if tired with John’s antics. “You know what I’m talking about!” She exclaims, before lowering her gaze, and her voice, too. “The marks on my back.” It makes John blink once more, then sigh, rubbing his own scars.
“Abigail, I don’t care about them scars,” he starts, speaking from experience. “They don’t mean shit to me. Shouldnt mean anything to you, either,” he’s about to continue, voice careful, when Abigail speaks once more. “But they do mean something to me, John, it’s.. it’s….” She trails off, before John pats the empty space beside him on the bed.
Abigail sits down, arms wrapped around herself as if it were to protect her from telling the story.
“You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t wanna.” John stares blankly, not wanting to make the woman, his wife, any more uncomfortable. Abigail shakes her head. “No. I gotta. You’re my husband. You’re.. the one person I got left.”
The sudden contrast in tone makes John a bit concerned, sitting up straighter.
“I.. these scars… I got them back when I was a working girl,” Abigail starts, voice more far away as she continues. “It was around the first few months. I ran into some men. They wanted to take turns, so they paid their fee, before getting to… you know,” she gestures vaguely.
“I don’t know why, but.. one of the men started to play with his knife on me. I pleaded for him to stop. I didn’t sign up for any of that, just thought those boys wanted some fun.” Abigail’s voice starts cracking, and John continues to listen, growing more furious.
“The.. the man behind me, he then scratched me with his knife. Low, deep. Then they laughed as I cried for them to stop, for help to come and save me.” Abigail pauses, letting out a shaky sigh, borderlining on a sob, before looking up at John.
John’s heart aches at the look of his wife, his dear wife. So vulnerable and afraid. He doesn’t hesitate as he takes her into his arms, hands rubbing at her back, noting in the past it was a comforting gesture that Abigail enjoyed. The woman in question is sobbing softly into John’s shoulder.
“I hate them. I hate the marks on my back. I hate the way they make me look.” Abigail starts ranting, pushing herself off John, sobbing out before rubbing at her face with her pale, soft hands. John watches, before speaking.
“Them scars don’t make you look any different to me, Abigail.” John sighs, wrapping an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. “You’re still my beautiful girl.”
Abigail stops sobbing, instead crying softly, before laughing a little. She slaps his leg, softly, in some sort of admiring way. “Shut up.”
“It’s true,” John continues, lowering his face to kiss at her cheek. “You ain’t any less pretty since the day I first saw you.”
Abigail smiles, then moves forward to kiss John.