As I calmed down, realizing I was in my room, I rubbed the inside of my left forearm. In the pale morning light the dark scar was just a dot, and always a reminder of my time in the Confinement. “Thank you…” I heard the woman’s voice whisper. I shook my head to rid myself of the flashback. Out of all the things that occurred during my three months in Confinement, that memory haunted me the most. There was not a week that went by where I didn’t dream about it. I looked forward to the winter and wearing long sleeves. People loved to ask how I got the scar, and I hated retelling it. I threw my arm around and it hit the pillow next to me. It had been a long time since I had a woman in my bed. After the Confinement, I got to enjoy somewhat of a burst of stardom. “Aren’t you Owen Marina? One of the founders of the Convergence Party? I saw your interview with the Huffington Post. You are so hot…”
