[ 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 can see through clothes, or more precisely, I ca n't see clothes at 
 all. 
 
 Any other night, this ability would be particularly exciting, as I sit 
 in a nightclub downtown, having drinks with a college friend and 
 people-watching. Tonight as I walked in, my gaze caught on the 
 black abyss of a scar snaking around the bartender's right arm, down her 
 side, across her stomach, and around onto her back before ending 
 on her other arm. I am necessarily skilled at controlling where 
 I look, but I ca n't stop staring. 
 
 
 I only have one scar. It's a small white line through my right 
 eye-brow that appeared when I was 11, the moment I told my mother I 
 wanted to stay with her instead of dad after the divorce. She needed 
 me, and that is what she needed to hear, despite what I really 
 wanted. She saw the truth in my eyes the moment I said it, so the lie 
 scarred white and on my face for the world to see. That's the 
 rule. Lies get darker as they get meaner and they hide themselves on 
 the body as well as they have been hidden from the world. 
 
 The bartender looks at me with a smile, then at my friend as we sit 
 down: `` What would you like?'' 
 
 It takes Herculean effort to keep my eyes focused on her face as I 
 order a beer. Jordan smiles naturally at her, oblivious and orders a 
 whiskey sour. 
 
 `` What was that about at the entrance, you like her or something?'' He 
 asks. 
 
 ``... yeah, or something'' I answer, transfixed as she turns to make 
 our drinks, and I see the spiral of blackness that snakes around her 
 back like the tentacles of an octopus. I feel my stomach 
 lurch. Jeezus. `` You know, my stomach's off, I need a minute in the 
 bathroom.'' 
 
 `` Oh man, no problem, I'll just help you out with that beer when it 
 gets here'' Jordan quipped, as I stumbled off toward the mens 
 room. What the fuck could she have said? 
 
 Marriage was hard on my parents and they came out of it looking like 
 seasoned gladiators. At first, I was the only one that could see the 
 scars, small at first, accumulating on both of them. Little lies, lies 
 of omission, but gradually, the main lie grew on each of them. I could 
 almost see the words `` Everything is fine'' carved into their backs 
 until finally the shouting match. Divorce healed a lot of those scars, 
 the moment of confrontation hit each of them like a wave, finally 
 soothing the vicious wounds. They each walked away with a nearly 
 identical 6 inch scar along their shoulder blade and up onto the neck 
 like angels who had lost a wing. That lie which defined their lives for 
 20 years left a 6'' scar that faded from the color of pitch to a dull 
 gray after the divorce. 
 
 In the bathroom, I've calmed down. Cool water and a warm towel from 
 the attendant are keeping my visceral reaction at bay as I stare into 
 the mirror still seeing an after-image. What lie could she have told? 
 
 I am heading back to the bar, trying to keep my eyes down so I wo n't see IT 
 again. when She comes from my blind-spot, grabs my arm, and says: `` My 
 name is Glados, If you come with me, there will be delicious cake.'' 
 
 
 [ Ran out of time, hiking early tomorrow, maybe I'll write the rest then. ] 

