Branded

Each and every single mark had its story. Each scar its litany of woe, or its psalm of love.

When the plexiglass and cement walls of her cell seemed to shrink in around her, or when Ivy was occupied tending to her plants and had no attention to spare for a fleshly thing, or even when the hours since she had last seen him had begun to drag, she began to pour over them, as though reading a story on her body. Tracing her fingertips over ridges and shiny flesh, dreamily recalling to mind each moment it was seared upon her permanently, branding her forever more.

Each and every single mark would spark its special memory, transporting her absolutely.

She would shut her eyes and gasp in, the recirculated air of her cell or the earthy freshness of Ivy's greenhouse becoming pungent with the scent of candlewax and acid and sweat, the pomade of his hair and the sweetness of candyfloss. She would gaze open flesh raised and twisted, rice paper thin and smooth, white and pink and red, glistening wetly and remember moments in which he laughed or screamed, the frightening flash of wild eyes, the snap of white teeth.

Each and every single mark elicited its particular emotion, conjuring up vivid sensation that made her head spin.

Wet passion, heavy breath steaming her face, her body entwined with his, her back arching as she opened to him. Or terror, cowering away from clawed hands and fury that seemed to swell him into a monster, quaking into a shrunken ball. Even anger, at times. Anger of her own that was hot as blood when she fought back. Then relief, feeling herself ooze against him, pouring out whatever conflict she'd trapped.

Love, of course, more than anything else, always love, the constant accompaniment to whatever melody of feeling she was immersed in. Love, strong and hard and ferocious, tender and sweet and warm. Love that could make her feel like she was teetering on the edge, that made her feel as though she conquered the world with the force of it. Love that could make her feel eternal, and fragile as spun glass.

Each and every single mark was the story of that love and she bore them proudly to tell it to the world.