[ WP ] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar 's body . The bigger the lie , the deeper and larger the mark . One day , you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen .

I was flirting with being deemed a `` Marked One'' with my most recent scars. The Marked Ones had a lot of trouble fitting into society. It was an accepted form of prejudice. After all, you were n't judging someone based on race, creed, sexual orientation, hell even college football team allegiance. No, it was purely a judgement based on lies. I had quite a few, but never any big ones. Kept me from getting a job in finance, but I landed plenty of manual labor. Most recently, I had earned myself a spot recycling concrete. I lined up next to a few ex-cons, and a few that I knew were illegal immigrants. George, he had a scar from his eye to his chest... I knew not to ask him about that one. 
 
 I was off kilter today. Everything was irritating me, despite my awareness that what I was getting upset over was unimportant to me, my better angels were silent. Finally the boss called us on break for lunch after a tough day on the line. I took a tumble head first and nearly hit my face on an exposed road sign post. I looked down at my squished peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and also George's hammer that he had left out. I got up with rage in my eyes. 
 
 `` Awww Honey, that's the saddest little sandwich I've ever seen'' she said, before I could let out a holler at a giant ex-con. 
 
 `` You'll have to let me make you some lunch'' 
 
 I looked over and recognized her. It was the boss's daughter Scarlet. She had come through a few times, and the crew did their best to avert their eyes and hold in their whistles. She was just out of high school, but damn if she was n't the curviest woman I'd ever seen. Jet black hair, green eyes, freckles, and a ridiculously tight bod. I guess she did gymnastics or something? It was the first time I'd seen her and it was n't 40 below. She had come by during the winter and brought soup to her dad a few times. 
 
 She was wearing a tank top and some silly-tight jeans. She was a `` Pure One''... no surprise there. I'm sure her dad provided everything to her, and she did n't have to lie very often. In fact, I did n't see any at all. That was until she turned around to head back to the boss's trailer. 
 
 It was the longest and most hideous scar I'd ever seen. I could barely catch pieces of it between her shirt and her pants, but God... it was so wide and deep. 
 
 `` There's not much here, but I can reheat some of last nights dinner'' she caught eyes with me, and I could tell I was n't hiding my shocked face very well. A nervousness came over her, and she began to tear up. She quickly wiped the tear away and turned to change the subject back to the roast and potatoes she was getting for me. 
 
 She laid it out on the desk where I was sitting, and chimed in, 
 
 `` I saw George's hammer, and I saw you about to get yourself killed --'' she looked up. She could tell I was still fixated on her mark. 
 
 She paused, `` Johnny right? Your name's Johnny?'' 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 ``... Listen, if I tell you what it was, you have to promise that you wo n't tell anyone, and forget you ever saw it.'' 
 
 I nodded, slower this time. 
 
 `` My Dad, he's been *too* close to me ever since I could remember.'' 
 
 My face of shock and awe turned to a sympathetic one. The pain in her eyes and voice echoed to the bottom of my gut. 
 
 `` He's abused me and my sister the whole time we've been in the house since Mom went to prison.'' 
 
 She began to cry. 
 
 `` My little sister Vanessa, she told the police about everything. He was going to be locked away finally. They came to me to corroborate her story, and I... I'' 
 
 She pointed to the scar. 
 
 `` He beat her so bad that night, the police chalked it up to her having a creative imagination... That's what I told them, that she had a creative imagination... with all of those little scars on her body. Now she has real ones.'' 
 
 She let out a flurry of tears and sobs. 
 
 I already hated Jim, her father. It did n't surprise me that he abused anyone. He worked us like slaves and threw shit around the work site constantly. He fired Tony when his wife got cancer and he could n't come in. I already wanted to shove my foot up his pretentious ass. 
 
 *How could he do that to his own kids? * 
 
 It was something I pondered over for the rest of the day. The rest of the day went by quicker. I worked with a rage. A rage of injustice. 
 
 The chime rang for the end of the day. I felt a little relief. 
 
 I started to walk off and tripped head first and this time I was n't so lucky. I fell right into an exposed road sign post and it made it's way into bloodying my eye. I looked back, squinting through one good eye. It was George's hammer again. He looked at me nervously as if to say *I'm sorry* with his eyes. I took a deep breath and went over and picked it up to hand to him. 
 
 `` You clumsy motherfucker. Do n't think you're getting any time off for your own bullshit'' 
 
 It was Jim. I looked up at his face with a blind rage. In a flash I looked down at a bloody hammer. My eye widened. I had just struck him. I looked down at him convulsing as blood shot out of his head. Then it stopped. George looked down with his hand on his neck. 
 
 `` He's dead Johnny'' he said solemnly. 
 
 I saw a figure walking slowly off the work site. It was Scarlet. She turned towards me. A scar ripped her face, all the way down to her legs.
