Page 51 of Intertwined Souls
“This one is pretty. I like it,” I say softly, glancing at myself in the mirror that is attached to the wall at the end of the hallway.
Lex shakes her head. “None of them are the one. Try on the dress you found. I have a good feeling about it just based on your reaction to it. You say you like these ones, but you don’t look like you love them.”
Taking a breath, I decide to get over myself and try on the dress. As soon as I have it on, I know it’s the one I want.
Until I really look at myself in the mirror and remember that my body is far from flawless.
There’s a small scar above my left breast, and then one that comes down the front of my right shoulder from my back. When I turn around and glance over my shoulder, the dress dips down to my lower back, leaving my back exposed except for the crisscross straps that work their way up towards the spaghetti straps over my shoulders.
Which means that every scar on my back, where the most of them are, are exposed for the entire world to see. Scars that the guys haven’t even seen yet. I know that Ryker has felt them before, but once I froze up, he didn’t ask about them.
They make me look damaged. They show the world how damaged I am.
“Harley, I think I found the perfect belt. Get your ass out here and show me the dress!” Lex yells from the other side of the door.
Facing forward in front of the mirror again, I look over the dress. It dips low in the front, coming to a V right in between my breasts, then it softly flares out and ends at my feet. There is a slit on the left side that works its way all the way up to the middle of my thigh. It’s a deep crimson red that stands out against my pale skin.
I feel beautiful, yet I know I can’t wear this. It’s already bad enough I have the scar on my face. Exposing my back to the world? That’s like opening up an old wound and allowing an infection to seep in.
“Harley?” Lex calls softly from outside the fitting room.
Taking a deep breath, I respond, “This one won’t work. Let me change, and then we can go.”
“Harley? Let me see it. What’s wrong?” Lex all but demands.
I clench my fists, wanting nothing more than to turn around and open the door, open my wounds up, and not be afraid to show them, but I can't.
Cracking the door open, I peek my head out, plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t like it as much on as when I was looking at it on the hanger,” I force out.
Her eyes roam over my face before meeting my gaze and frowning. “Why are you lying? What’s really going on?” she asks gently.
Taking a deep breath, I straighten and pull the door all the way open but keep my fingers wrapped around the doorknob tightly. Maybe it’ll give me a sense of security that I could just slam the door if I need to.
Lex gasps, “Harley, that is absolutely stunning on you. You look like a fucking queen!”
Clearing my throat, I attempt to fight back the tears I can feel burning behind my eyes. “It won’t work. The back just—it won’t work.”
She frowns. “Turn around. Let me see the back.”
“Lex…” My voice shakes slightly.
“Harley, whatever the issue is, tell me. I promise I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.” Her steady eye contact is comforting and doesn't make me feel uneasy.
“My back—my back is covered in scars. It’s already bad enough I have to see the one on my face every day. A lot of the time, I avoid my reflection because I don’t want to see it. I’ve gotten more used to it since being at the club because no one there ever stares at it or treats me different, but I also know how mean and judgmental people can be.
“The memories… Those are bad enough on their own. Leaving myself vulnerable by showing them off? That’s opening myself up to disgust and hate that I don’t want to see. I already have enough for myself.” I gasp as it all pours out in one breath.
Lex gently takes my hand that isn’t clutching the door handle. “Your scars are a part of you. A part of your story. I can assume that they came from very horrible things, but Harley, by seeing the scars every day, you aren’t making yourself vulnerable. You’re showing the world how fucking strong and brave you are. That you're a fighter and you don't give up.”
There's no hesitation as she speaks. The firmness in her voice helps my shoulders to relax because I can feel how sincere she is.
“You don’t have to show me. And you don’t have to wear the dress. But don’t refuse to do it out of fear. The one who is going to judge you the most is yourself. But you just have to learn how to look at them as your strength and not your weakness.
“And those people who say anything or even glance at you with disgust? Well, they aren’t worth your time. People bring down others and point out their flaws to attempt to make themselves feel better.” She gives me a determined look.
Exhaling, I squeeze her hand back. “Thank you. I’m really glad you are a part of my life.”
“Me, too. We’ll always be there for each other. Even when it’s hard,” she murmurs.