What wound? Oh... that one. It's not a very interesting story, really. I was just doing stupid shit the way all kids do. You don't want to hear about it. Scars aren't all that exciting, you know. They're just reminders of moronic things you've done, things you wish you could forget, but you can't because they're right there on your skin, forever. Somebody's always going to come along and say, "Hey, how'd you get that cool scar?"

No. Scars aren't cool, honey. You might think of them as battle scars, but to me they're mementos of the dumb things I've done and all the brilliant ways I've fucked up my life.

There's really no story to tell. I just fell down the stairs. Yeah, I know, it sounds cliché, but it's true. I fell, I got that scar, end of story.

Oh, you don't believe me, do you? Well fuck you, then! You wanna know how I really got this scar? You wouldn't believe me if I told you. You wouldn't be able to stand knowing the truth. It's ugly, baby. You don't want to ever go down that road.

Shit. I knew you'd be curious someday, I guess. I just... I didn't ever want to have to tell you about this. It's not something I like to remember. It's not something anybody should have to experience...

Okay... See, I was with this girl, a long time ago, before I ever met you. She was gorgeous, though not half as beautiful as you, and she had these gypsy eyes that would grab hold of your soul. I was definitely under her spell; I'd have done anything for that girl. Esmé was her name. Anyway, the day I got this scar she told me she was leaving me. I guess I should've seen it coming. We were so different, and she was always on the move. Always looking for fresh blood, some new stud to entrance with those sparkling eyes. But I couldn't help it. I was full of hatred. I couldn't stand to look at her, even though she tried to let me down easy. I screamed at her to get out, to leave me alone already, but she tried to touch me and I just flew off the handle. I grabbed the nearest thing and hit her with it. Unfortunately for both of us, the nearest thing was an empty wine bottle, the bottle we'd emptied together just the night before. I swung it at her with all the strength I had in me, and it shattered against her temple.

She collapsed on the floor in a shower of glass, and one piece sliced into my wrist there where you can see the scar. I was bleeding, she was unconscious, and I instantly regretted it all. I was sorry I'd ever met her, but I wasn't angry anymore. It was like hitting her with that bottle had been just the thing I needed to get her out of my system. I was just sitting there, with that broken glass all around us, staring at her. She wasn't dead; I could see her chest rising and falling slightly. She was still breathing. She looked so calm. She could never leave me if she never woke up...

Oh, god, it's just too horrible! Why did you have to ask me about that scar? I swore I'd never tell anyone the truth. You don't want to know what I did to her, baby. You don't want to know what kind of man I really am.

I... I can't.

Oh god! I'm the worst sort of person. I raped her. While she was lying there on the floor. Instead of helping her I spread her legs and fucked her one last time before she woke up and left me for good. It was the fuck of my life. I had the longest, hardest orgasm I've ever had, and I was screwing someone who was out cold. She might as well have been dead. She didn't respond, physically. How could she? I'd knocked her out. I fucked her until I was sore, and then I came inside of her, the way she'd never let me when she was conscious. It was revenge and it was disgusting, but I did it and I can't deny that anymore.

You hate me, don't you? You think I'm one sick bastard. I guess I can't blame you. It's pretty horrible, after all...

What? No, I didn't tell her when she woke up. I just told her I was sorry about the bottle, and I understood why she was leaving me. I guess we all have our ways of dealing with pain. My way was to inflict pain on the person who had hurt me. Revenge. I got back at her pretty good, I guess. I mean, I'm not proud of it, but... well, we all do stupid things for love, right?