Heal The Scars

She's Broken

-Hunter POV-

I opened the back door and took her sleeping form in my arms. I carried her up the stairs with the rest of the guys falling closely behind. My feet carried me to her room, and I laid her gently on her bed. The only piece of clothing that adorned her tiny body was her shirt and my jacket.

Her cheeks were flushed with tear stains and her eyes, even though they were sealed shut, they were puffy and dark circles lay underneath them. The scars that were scattered across her pale thighs were visible from underneath my jacket. She looked so fragile, and I could tell she was hurting inside and out. She tried to be strong, I could tell, but she was weak at the same time.

It was like she was a bulldozer who built walls up but if you hit a soft spot the wall would come crumbling down. She was fragile like glass. If you punched the surface hard enough, the glass would scatter into a billion beats of pieces, and she'd find her way to put the pieces of the glass back together without getting hurt, but a sharp piece of glass always ended up pricking her flesh, drawing blood to the surface.

She tried so hard to be society's definition of perfection, but what she doesnt seem to notice she was perfect all along. She was my definition of perfection, more than perfect really. It hurt me that she'd never believe it. She'd never glance in the mirror and stare at her reflection without pointing out her flaws. Not hating herself for what she wasn't and loving herself for what she is.

I wish I could make her love herself like I've learned to do these past weeks that I've known her. I wish she could see what I see everytime I looked at her. Or how her eyes have slowly regained their sparkle and shine whenever she laughed or smiled. Or how her hair falls over her shoulders and cascades down her back and stops just above her bum. I love how small she is; so easy to carry in my arms, and how much shorter she is compared to me. Everything little thing she hated about herself I've grown to love.

I guess you could say I'm falling for my adopted sister and from what ive recalled, I'm falling hard.

Warm liquid dripping onto my cheeks pulled me out of my daze. Tears. I was crying. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hands and remembered what I was supposed to be doing. Clothes. Austyn needs clothes. I walked over to her drawer chest and rumbled through them until I found what she needed; a clean pair of underwear, a t-shirt, and a pair of pants.

I sat on the edge of her bed with the fabric in my hands, just staring at her features, admiring her beauty. My fingers had a mind of their own, reaching out and pushing loose strands of her hair from her eyes and tucking it behind her ears. They traveled to the hem of her shirt and gently took ahold of the fabric and tugged it softly over her head. Id be lying if I said she wasn't gorgeous. She really was.

My cold fingers brushed against her stomach when I pulled the shirt over her head and goosebumps formed where I touched; I smiled. I left my jacket on her when I pulled on her underwear, sure she wouldn't want anyone seeing those areas of her body, especially me. Then I tugged the pajama pants over her slender legs, resisting the urge to kiss her scars, even though it was tempting, I decided against it.

When I was done, I bandaged her ankle and placed the blanket over her legs and slender waist before stripping out of my shirt and climbing in bed with her. She shivered when I took her in my arms and buried my head in her soft hair, her skin soft against my cold chest.

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