The last time someone had touched her face, it caused her to painfully look away at her reflection, lower her head when she was among others, and overall drive the final nail in her mortified coffin. Always she chose to ignore those fateful nights. Wishing nothing more than to forget just what he did to her face. Each time she was in a room with mirrors she made sure to look away, always averting her eyes to keep herself from staring into the horror of her past. No matter where she went she was always stared at. Some thought her scars showed her as a fearless person that overcame such a tragic past. Others thought her nothing more than a weakling incapable of keeping herself out of danger. No matter what others thought, she never bothered to ask. Sometimes along the streets older women would approach her and grab her hand, stare her in the eye and simply pat her hand attempting to show solace and unspoken sympathy. While others, particularly men eyed her as nothing more than fresh meat that was used to being beaten in submission. Continuously she ignored them, and moved long wanting to simply forget their eyes and attention. A quiet shy thing she wanted nothing more than to be overlooked and ignored, and he had taken that ability away from her. Who could overlook such an obvious mutilated face? That he would even like seeing her blush only caused her cheeks to grow redder. As the deviant stretched his fingers closer she would move her head farther into the hammock not wanting him any closer. Luckily, he had given up and instead leaned over her to retrieve a toy. Nimble fingers would look over the faded and worn leopard toy, her thumb brushing over the top of the head behind the ear as a ghost of a smile appeared on her disfigured face, quite thankful to be presented such a gift. Blue-grey eyes briefly met his as she watched the dark scowl appear on his face and his adamant cry that he was far better looking, which caused the girl to move her head up and down in a dumbfound manner of agreement. With his assurance that he would indeed not squash her and her offer of a quick snack, she was walking along the catwalk heading for the kitchen, only to turn her head to the side in an inquisitive fashion.

"If you want it to be, I guess so...never been to a party."

That he would think of this late snack and sharing of beds a party was completely beyond her. Parties, from what she could understand, involved sweets, loud shouts and yelling, games, and gifts. To think that sharing a snack and bed would be consider such a thing was something she just couldn't possibly see as to call such a thing. Softly humming to herself the melody quite ethereal she would move around the kitchen quietly opening the cabinets and taking out the box of graham crackers, bag of marshmallow, and small packets of chocolate. Flicking the stove on lowering the flames to its lowest setting, grabbing a fork and plucking the marshmallow she would stand there, twirling it until it became the perfect golden brown. Placing the perfect heated marshmallow on the bark of chocolate, and covering it with another block of chocolate, placing graham crackers over it she would turn around noticing the boy handing her a deflated balloon. Handing him the s'more she would take the balloon.

"This is a s'more...it's pretty good!"

As the boy would, no doubt devour the tasty treat in such a quick manner, the curly-haired woman make a few more, placing them on the counter for him to eat while keeping the deflated balloon on the counter. Already making him at least 5, she would shut the stove off and put the assortment of food back in their respective places. Leaving the turned off stove, allowing the boy to finish his snack she would take the balloon to her lips and inflate the contraption until it was whole. Bringing the now inflated balloon to herself, she would tie its end to keep the oxygen inside not even bothering to question just where he got it. Sometimes, it was best not to ask questions. As soon as the balloon was ready, she would tap it upwards a big grin on her face apparently accidentally calling dibs on the newly made toy. Blue-grey eyes fixated on the object happily tapping it up and down, walking under it and tapping it again quite enthralled with her own little game.

I'd Rather Feel Pain Then Nothing At All

Raven