Mia-story

knew she was staring. She tried to do it inconspicuously, when she thought I wasn't looking. But I could see her doing it in my peripheral. Even when she was looking right at me, I saw her beady little eyes being pulled towards them. She must have been stupid if she thought she was sneaky. Or maybe she thought I was too stupid to notice. But I did, I always noticed. But I pretended I didn't. I pretended I didn't notice her staring at them.
Them being the three long, jagged scars on the left side of my face that started at my hairline and extended down across my cheek, and the three other's on my neck that disappeared beneath the collar of my work shirt.
My other scars were easily hidden by pants and long sleeves, and normally the scars on my face and neck were hidden by my hair. But at work It was required that employees keep their hair out of their face. It didn't make sense to me because this was a sporting goods store, and we didn't work anywhere near food. I asked the manager about possibly making an exception, but he just gave me a crap speech about 'not playing favorites' or some bullshit.
The customer really didn't have a right to stare. She wasn't exactly a prize, either. Middle aged with dull brown hair made rough and bristly from a lifetime of using off-brand hairspray. She was more than a little chunky, the weight from child bearing never really lost. Cheep cover up making the wrinkles forming on her face even more prominent. Behind her was a small heard of children who didn't even try to disguise the fact that they were staring. As I rang up a pair of soccer cleats bought for the oldest child in the brood, one of the younger ones popped his thumb out of his mouth and said a little too loudly "Mommy, what's wrong with her face?"
"Billy!" the woman snapped at her son. "Don't be rude!" She turned back to me with a flustered and sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry." She said, apologizing for her child's lack of tact.
I put on a small, barely noticeable smile. "It's fine." I said. "No harm done." I wasn't mad at the little boy; he couldn't have been older than four. I could forgive him his rudeness. He was little and obviously hadn't learned his manners yet.
After I handed the bagged soccer cleats to the woman, she hesitated at the register. She opened and closed her mouth, like she was trying to say something but couldn't find the words. I had a feeling about what she would ask, but I was hoping that for once I was wrong.
"I know it's really none of my business, dear…"
Nope. I knew exactly what she was going to ask.
"but how exactly did that happen?" she said, obviously referring to my scars. Shit. I thought. Here we go. I didn't see why the hell she even asked if she knew it wasn't any of her business. It had been a long day, it was an hour until my shift ended, and I was in a bad mood. More than anything I wanted to go into Bitch Mode and tell this nosy woman that it was none of her fucking business. But Dwayne, the greasy store manager, said that if I was rude to another customer I would get fired. And as much as I hated to admit it, I really needed this job. My brother would kick my ass if I lost another job because of my temper.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see an athletic looking man pretending to look at packs of gum on a rack next to the register while trying to eavesdrop. Sighing, I let slip the lie that I had to tell at least five strangers a week.
"I went on a camping trip a few years ago and got mauled by a bear."
The woman gasped and her hand rushed to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
I just shrugged like "what can you do?" and bid farewell to the woman and her brood of children. She had been shocked when I told her the lie. I'm sure she would have had a conniption if I had told her the truth.
~ ~ ~ ~
When I finally got off work and returned to the creaky old house I shared with my brother Quil, I was alone. Quil was working a night shift that evening and wouldn't be home until 10. After I tossed my keys onto the kitchen table, I trudged up the noisy stairs and headed straight for the bathroom to soak in a hot bath.
While I waited for the tub to fill with water, I removed my clothing in front of the full length mirror in the bathroom, revealing more and more scars with each item of clothing. In addition to the ones on my face and neck, there were several scars on my arms, legs, and torso. It looked like I really had been mauled by a bear. In truth I had been attacked by an animal, but it definitely wasn't a bear.
The truth was that my brother Quil and I were Werewolves, and few years ago I had a…disagreement with another female. My temper got the best of me and things got violent. But I was lucky compared to the other bitch. At least all I lost was some blood and chunks of flesh…
After turning the radio on the windowsill to a hard rock station, I slid myself into the steaming water. I rested my head against the back of the tub and closed my eyes; I could already feel my sore muscles relaxing. The bad mood that I had carried with me most of the day started to fade, and I felt myself grow calmer. When I was done washing up, I pulled on a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old Black Sabbath shirt before raking a brush through my long auburn hair and heading downstairs for something to eat.
Some people have kitchens in their homes. My brother and I had a disaster area that featured kitchen appliances. Neither of us liked doing the dishes, so they were usually put off until everything was dirty and we had to rock-paper-scissors to decide who would wash them. We couldn't remember the last time our oven worked, and we had since learned to survive on microwavable food and take-out.
Opening the fridge door, I grimaced when I realized that we really needed to go grocery shopping. Our fridge was completely bare except for a half gallon of milk, some Sunny D and leftover Chinese take-out that Quil was saving for when he got home that night.
Giving up on the fridge, I rooted around in the cabinet until I found a can of spaghetti-O's. I was too lazy and hungry to search for the damned can opener, so I grew out my claws and ripped the can open myself before grabbing a plastic spork and chowing down.