Scp: The One With The Mask

Chapter 7: I Am Beautiful!

Other stories filled the remaining pages—politics, a local festival, a sports column. None of it held her interest.

Routine kept her grounded. She washed her dishes, feeling the warmth of the water against her fingers, the simple, repetitive motions giving her something to focus on. Once done, she made her way back upstairs. The stairlift carried her up, smooth and steady.

Her shower was another process. Water cascaded over her, hot and soothing, but she barely felt it. She moved through the motions, washing, rinsing, drying, all with mechanical efficiency.

After brushing her teeth, she dressed in her usual attire—a crisp white lab coat over a dark blouse and black slacks. Professional. Put-together. Unshaken. She had to be.

Back downstairs, she entered the garage. Her car, parked neatly inside, was modified for hand controls. She transferred into the driver's seat, folding her wheelchair and securing it in the back with ease.

With a deep breath, she started the engine and pulled onto the streets of Atlanta.

The city was slowly waking, traffic beginning to build as the sun climbed higher. The hum of the road was familiar. A rhythm she had long since settled into.

At 7:00 AM, her phone rang. The caller ID flashed "Mamá."

Natalie sighed but answered.

"Buenos días, mija," her mother greeted warmly.

"Buenos días, Mamá," Natalie replied, keeping her eyes on the road.

"¿Cómo estás? ¿Dormiste bien?" As always, the first question was concern.

"Estoy bien, como siempre," Natalie answered, her tone even.

Her mother hummed, unconvinced. "¿Cuándo vienes a visitarnos? Tu papá y yo te extrañamos."

Natalie tightened her grip on the wheel. "Mamá, ya hablamos de esto."

"Mija, por favor. No es bueno que estés sola allá."

"No estoy sola. Tengo mi trabajo, mis amigos. Estoy bien aquí."

Silence stretched between them for a beat.

And then, as if on cue—"¿Al menos considerarías conocer a alguien? Tengo un amigo—"

"Mamá, no." Natalie's response was immediate, sharp with frustration.

"Es un buen hombre, Natalie. Muy guapo, trabajador—"

"No quiero que me presentes a nadie. Ya basta con eso."

Another pause. Then, a muttered Spanish curse.

Natalie smirked despite herself.

"Te quiero," she said, her voice softer now.

Her mother sighed, but there was warmth in her tone as she replied, "Te quiero también, mija."

The call ended.

Natalie let out a long breath, shaking her head. The morning light painted long shadows across the street as she drove. The city stretched before her, vast and indifferent.

Her mother always brought up love like it was something she could just... pick up again. As if it had only been misplaced.

She thought of Brooklyn.

She hadn't said his name aloud in years.

Their love had once been effortless. A natural part of her life, like breathing. But the accident had changed everything. Slowly, then all at once. The warmth between them had eroded under the weight of unspoken words, of pity disguised as concern, of the quiet resignation that she was no longer the woman he had married.