I already took a shower this morning, so I head to my vanity where my makeup is. I pull my hair back and secure it with two pins, deciding to do my makeup before I curl my hair. I’m caught looking at my reflection. It would scare most people, but it’s something I have to live with.
Every day I’m constantly reminded of why I should never piss Duarte off. He isn’t the type of man who will only hurt me where others can’t see it. He’s whipped me right across the face, tearing off part of my eyebrow in the process. I have two permanent scars. One spans from above my eyebrow down to my cheekbone. The other goes from the end of my eyebrow to the front of my cheekbone. They’re a couple of years old at this point, so I don’t think they will heal any more than they already have.
