And the next morning she went to school
wearing jeans and her jacket zipped up, despite the sweltering heat. "Because she was still sick" she told everyone, but she, and only she, knew the real reason. The real reason was to hide her cuts, as she had been doing for months. Most had healed themselves to scars, but there were several on her right arm nowhere near healing. Those cuts, those fresh cuts, covered in dried blood, hidden under her watch, were her little secret. She was an artist, and her body had been a canvas for far too long.
"Are you okay?" He asked her as she walked up,
her head hung. "I'm fine" she said, trying to sound happy, but the truth was, she was dead inside. Without saying another word, she wrapped her arms around him. He was a bit shocked, but pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. "I love you" he said tenderly. "I love you too" she whispered back into his chest. Silently she cried in his embrace. She didn't want to let go for she knew this would be the last time she felt his embrace.
