"Where there is anger, there
is always pain underneath."
- Eckhart Tolle
"It is not the bruises on
the body that hurt. It is the
wounds of the heart and
the scars on the mind."
- Aisha Mirza
"So it's true, when all is said
and done, grief is...
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Hours later the light shinning through the small slit in the blackout curtains woke me up.
Liam was still wrapped around me, his face near my neck, arms around my waits, and one leg through over mine, I was pulled right back into his chest. Sighing, I turn to face his best I can without waking him.
His face is clam as he sleeps, and so is his body. His long hair has fallen from the braids, a mess atop his head. His scar still distinct as ever, running right over his left eye right down to his adam's apple, jagged and white from years of healing itself. I gently, with a ghost's touch, trace my pointer finger over it, all the way down and then up. Its still a miracle he has vision in his left eye.
Slowly, staring at him I drift back to sleep, cuddling even closer to him.
Liam's P.O.V
Opening my eyes, I glance around the room. Its dark outside now, maybe 6-7.
Sighing, I lay my head back down as I look over at Dream.
Her small body is wrapped around my larger one, her head on my chest with one hand wrapped around the arm around her waist, and her legs are tangled in mine. Her face is peaceful. I gently run my finger over the scar on her neck, its nearly impossible to see to the naked eye but I know exactly where it is, how long its is, and where it ends.
Her dad gave her that one, well most of them but that one was the breaking point for me.
I had just dropped her off at home, making sure it was after dark, her parents would be asleep. I was off no more then three minutes when I heard her scream rip through the air. I turned and ran and kicked open the door to see her dad with her up against the wall his arm choking her to the wall and the other hand slicing from the back of her left ear down across her chest to right under right arm.
I seen red that night and beat him into a bloody pulp before I came to and understood Dream needed help.
She was wozy and nearly passed out by the time I got her to the local hospital. She had to get near 200 stitches that night and the very next I used my money to get us this place and I moved all of her things here before she was even out of the hospital.
Softly she stirred, clenching her eyes once before finally opening them and gracing me with her beautiful brown gray eyes, "good morning," she whispered looking up at me.
"Morning," I mumble pulling her into me one last time before pulling myself and her to sit up.
"Why are you staring at me?" She whispers, tilting her to the side slightly.
