Disfigurement

I cannot think of a kinder or more appropriate word to describe it. With my beloved’s attentive care, the marks on me begin to fade. I had not spoken of them much, other than saying that I was eager for them to be gone.

We each carry on our bodies the consequences of a life chosen together, in defiance of all the realms. My beloved’s devastating injury can be covered and masked, but it will never heal. Mine are harder to hide but are not permanent. We manage in different ways with the support of each other.

“Do you think I am ugly now?”

Never.