Bits of Paper

Steven knew this would not be a good day.  His defeated face looks back at him in the mirror and he knew this was true.  Today would be one of those days where everyone looks at him askance.  They would all have sympathy in their eyes as they look at him the same way one might look at a sick puppy or an infirm homeless man.  The bits of paper stuck to his face told them everything.

Steven had already cut himself several times.  The tiny pieces of tissue marked his face like some sort of sadistic road map.  These were his scarlet letter, his mark of shame.  As soon as he left the house everyone would know.  They would questions his manhood and his ability to perform even the most basic hygienic tasks.  He wanted to shout out that it was not his fault, that he had been duped.  But he knew that the constraints of society would not allow him to act out in such an unacceptable manner.

It was Greg’s fault.  Greg, whom he hated, had recommended to Steven some new, supposedly superior razors to use.  Because Steven is too trusting, he believed Greg.  That had turned out to be a mistake.  These were not razors, these were instruments of torture.  Their only purpose appeared to be to rend flesh from Steven’s face in the most painful way possible.  They appeared to be completely rusted, and had no comfort what so ever.  It felt like shaving with a Civil War era bayonet.  He was surprised he didn’t look like Skeletor by now, all bone and sinew and wrath. 

He suppressed as scream as he cut himself again, and ripped off another piece of tissue to apply to his hemorrhaging face.  Mummies had less cotton on them than Steven had.  Perhaps Steven should take inspiration from them and go all the way, completely enveloping himself.  At least then he would be free from the mockery of those who saw him.  But, he knew work would not allow him to dress like that.  He sighed, and tried to finish this butcher’s work.  The Universe was again conspiring against him.