[ WP ] A world where sins leave a physical mark on the sinner .

Everyone has marks. 
 
 Some of them are n't so big or noticeable anymore - they fade, depending on if you own up to what you did and how long ago it was. Little sins when you're a child - lying about going to bed or brushing your teeth, for example - tend to fade away by the time you reach adulthood. Lying as an adult will leave a a small triangular mark on your hand. Cheat on a spouse and you'll be branded with an A just over your heart. Steal and a band appears around one of your fingers, one for each offense. 
 
 It was an imperfect world, however, and we all had our marks. They were just a part of us, like stripes on a zebra. I liked to look at the marks on my hands when I was driving. Small triangles for all my dishonesty - I would n't say I lied a *lot*, but it sure did seem like it when you were seeing the summation of all those little lies. A medium sized square that had started small in the center of my right wrist and had grown each time I disrespected my parents; three rings on my left index finger for the three candy bars I had stolen in middle school. 
 
 I was looking at these when my car came to a jolting stop. I was thrown forward, hitting my upper body against the steering wheel. I'd been driving on a street that saw little traffic, but the little car in front of me had been stopped at one of the few lights, and I had n't seen it. I took a few moments to compose myself, willing my head to stop pounding. 
 
 When I could, I got out of the car and walked forward. My limb jittered, and there was a burning in my chest from where I hit the steering wheel. I came around to the driver's side and looked inside. A woman, probably in her early thirties, lay back against her seat. She looked unconscious, and I tried the door. It opened and I reached inside to feel her neck, looking for a pulse. When I found it, I breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 But the burning in my chest was growing, becoming almost overwhelming. Like hot fire being pressed into my skin. I groaned and put my hand to my chest, only to find that it was hot. In slight surprise, I hooked my thumb in the collar of my t-shirt and pulled it forward, glancing down. As I watched, a long horizontal line with three vertical intersecting lines began to appear on my skin. 
 
 My heart sank. It was n't possible. The woman was alive. She was alive! There was no reason for this mark, unless there had been someone else in the car. 
 
 Shaking, I looked inside. The back of the car was badly damaged, and it was hard to get a clear view. I did n't really need to look inside, the marks never lied. The sinner was always branded correctly. There was not a single case where a mark had appeared without reason, without the sin being committed. 
 
 Then I saw her. My stomach flipped. She was young. A child. The burning spread across my chest, down to my stomach. I knew the lines were carving themselves across my body. I had only seen marks like this in the textbooks and on TV, but everyone knew them when they saw them. Big ugly marks that covered almost every inch of you, starting from your heart and spreading out. 
 
 Branding you forever as what you were. 
 
 *Murderer. *
