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Fiction: How Jeff Got That Scar

She yanked Jeff into her room and slammed the door, muffling the startled expletives from the girls in the hall.

Alice stood in front of Jeff, and took a long look at the boy she had loved since the first grade. The first boy she had kissed. The boy who had given her a box turtle for her ninth birthday. Who had been giving her the last bite of his dessert for as long as she could remember. The man who sat on the edge of her gurney in the ER the night she was raped. The man who walked her to her counseling sessions, who consoled her when her attacker went free. Alice looked now, and the torn shirt, the mudstained jeans dirtying her bedspread, the filthy fingernails.

“I buried him, baby,” Jeff said softly. “That’s what you do with dead people.”

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