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{ F L A S H B A C K }

He was sat under the willow tree at lunchtime, ignoring all the disgusted expressions passersby would give him. There was no remorse in their eyes. But he was too proud to let it hurt him.

"Are you ever going to talk to me?" Her voice called from above in the trees. He shrugged, but did not utter a sound. She sighed heavily.

"The name's Dahlia."
But he already knew that.

written in scars  || father lrh (au) Historias para obsesionarse. Descúbrelo ahora