Page 3 of Saving Meadow (The Next Generation #1)

Pretty Face

“ G ood morning, Meadow.” Beth stopped at my desk, her eyes went wide, and I braced for what would come next.

“Oh, I’m happy you finally decided to stop trying to cover up the awful scar.

By the end of the day, your make-up just wears off and you can see it anyway.

It’s such a shame; you were such a beautiful girl.

I mean you still are, even with the scar on your face.

” Beth smiled a bright smile as she continued by my desk as if she wasn’t just a royal bitch.

Who says that?

Beth does, that’s who. And most everyone else. At least she makes comments to my face instead of whispering them behind my back. I should’ve been used to it by now. From the moment I’d woken up in the hospital with this hideous scar marring my face, people have been making comments.

Oh, you poor thing.

Does it hurt?

So sad to mark such a pretty face.

I’ve heard it all, and mostly I ignored the stares and running commentary about how my scar came to be.

People comment as if I don’t know I have a six-inch scar running from my ear to my chin.

I knew it was there; I saw it every day.

A stark reminder that I was lucky to be alive.

My flesh had been flayed open with such force two of my teeth were dislodged, and I have dental implants.

Unfortunately, even after plastic surgery, the scar was still prevalent.

These days I chose to view the mark as a symbol of what I lived through.

I’ve not always felt that way. There were many dark days after the attack happened.

I was too afraid to leave my house, horrified I looked like a monster, and there was a time I’d contemplated ending it all.

I might’ve if it wasn’t for a very special woman, who’d I clung to like a lifeline.

VeronicaVenus21 was my savior even though I’d never met her in real life.

She was a member of a message board I joined after I was released from the hospital.

The group was for victims of violent crimes.

We’d spent hours in the online chatroom.

She’d survived a horrific ordeal, much worse than mine, and she’d made it through. She gave me hope.

“Good morning to you, too, Beth. I put your new sales reports on your desk.” I flashed what I hoped was a normal-looking smile. Because in my mind I had jumped on her back like a spider monkey and knocked her to the ground, banging her pinchy face into the cheap Berber office carpet.

Bitch.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was ready to go home.

Monday mornings always sucked, but this one was especially craptastic.

My normally mild-mannered, sweetheart of a boss, was tired and crabby.

She had only been back from maternity leave for a month, and her new baby had colic, which in non-parent layman’s terms meant I am miserable, so you will be too .

I’d normally work through lunch, snacking at my desk, but today I had to get some fresh air.

The entire office seemed to be off. I grabbed a turkey sandwich from the sub shop next door and sat on one of the benches out front and just as the deliciousness that was a turkey on rye with extra swiss and extra mustard was at my lips, Rory plopped down beside me.

I jumped, squeezed, and mustard shot out of the bottom of my yummy sandwich at the speed of light, and now I was wearing it, a huge yellow spot on the front of my teal blouse.

“Shit. Sorry, Meadow,” she stammered and proceeded to molest my breasts with a napkin, further smearing the offending condiment into the material.

I will admit for a moment I did contemplate the fact that in the past five years, my co-worker had been the only person to touch my breasts; and how sad that detail was. I was twenty-six years old and hadn’t had a single sexual experience with anyone in years – until Rory and her exploring hands.

“It’s fine.” I stilled her hands and took over, but it was too late. The stain was huge now, spreading nipple to nipple instead of smack dab in the middle of my chest.

“Today sucks,” Rory huffed.

“You’re telling me.”

I was going to smell like a hoagie all day.

“It’s like a case of the body snatchers on my floor today. Everyone is acting like assholes,” she complained.

Rory worked on the floor above mine in the accounting department. She was nice enough, but our paths rarely crossed.

“Oh good, it’s not just the sales team then. I thought they’d all been infected with douche canoe virus. ”

“You know, me and some of the girls from HR are going to happy hour tonight. You should join us.”

Memories of the last time I went to happy hour flooded and the panic that accompanies those thoughts rose to the surface with such force I physically jerked, dropping my sandwich on the ground.

“Fudgesicle.”

“Shit girl, are you okay?” Rory asked.

“Yeah. I just remembered I didn’t finish Beth’s weekly sales forecast. She’ll be pissed. I gotta get back to the office.” I tried to cover up my freakish reaction to her mentioning getting drinks.

Then I did what I always did when the memories of that night became too much. I sent a message to Veronica Venus.