Tattoos and Scars | Completed, Unedited

14 | It's Worth It, You're Worth It

Bailey

"What do you mean?" I ask.

It's just me and Adrian in the kitchen.

Usually, being with someone alone has never turned out well for me. Usually, I'd be scared, but something about him today, makes me stay put.

For some reason, I trust him not to hurt me.

Maybe it's because he's still standing a good few feet away from me. Or maybe it's because he's actually talking to me for once. I don't know, but I do know that I'm safe here.

It might have been a good thing after all, that I witnessed that murder. Because it landed me in a place that's way better than anywhere I've ever been.

"When do we get to eat?" Adrian asks, avoiding my question. I don't look into it more, and instead, I just answer his question.

"In a few minutes."

"Great, I'll call Blake and Anna," He says, and leaves the kitchen. I know I'm not good at making conversation, but he wasn't either. So no one can blame me if it was awkward.

I grab three plates from the cabinet and place the food on it. "Yay food!" I hear Blake celebrate, as he approaches the dining table. "I didn't know you cooked."

"I do," I tell him.

"Smells amazing!" Anna exclaims as she takes a plate.

"Thank you," I mutter quietly.

"Why are there only three plates?" Adrian asks, looking at me with the same observant green eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

"You ate an apple for breakfast," He points out, as Anna shoots me a sad look.

"Either way, there's no more left, I only made enough for three," I tell them, and walk away from them. I just don't have an appetite for anything anymore. I just eat breakfast so I don't starve, but that's about it.

I head towards my room, with the intent to finish up some homework I didn't get to finish yesterday. But I want to take a shower first. I walk towards the bathroom, and lock the door behind me.

I take off my shirt, and my eyes land on the big bold letters etched onto my back for life.

Slut. Whore. Bitch.

It's red and black from still healing, but I know it'll never heal completely. It'll stay there for life as a constant reminder that I was just a canvas for my dad. An object, no more.

I look at the scar on my right shoulder from the night he threw a knife at me.

The other was on my abdomen, from that night he got angry at me for not drying his clothes.

The one on my right thigh was from when I was five and I sucked up the courage and told him to stop drinking. He threw his beer bottle at me.

The one on my right calf was from when I was twelve. He pushed me into the edge of the dresser and the sharpness of it cut through my calf.

The one on my left leg is from when I was eleven and he threw another beer bottle at me. The one my left arm is from him angrily slicing through it. It needed many stitches, but my dad lied to the doctor saying it was an accident and acted all concerned.

The last one is a burn mark on my right arm. From the day when I was seven and he pushed me onto the stove, and burned my arm with it.

But let's just hope there won't be any more going forward.

I head into the shower, and the steaming water instantly stings the cuts on my back. I ignore it and let the water rush down my now short hair. I close my eyes for a while, just to feel the calming sound of the water, running down my body.

Soon enough, my back starts stinging more and more, to the point that I'm compelled to turn off the shower and head out.

I wrap myself in a towel, and open the bathroom door so I can get my clothes. I slip on a pair of underwear, and a bra before pulling into my jeans. Just before I put on a sweatshirt, Adrian's voice startles me.

"You left without eating, so I saved some for you."

I turn around to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you food... well, actually I put aside some of mine before I even started. I didn't want you to go hungry," He says, looking at me like a five year old looks at someone that just helped them find their mommy at the amusement park.

"But I wasn't hungry," I try to tell him.

"You're lying. Come on, you have to eat something, and everyone knows I don't share food," He coaxes. "You look so pale and unhealthy. Eat something."

I don't reply for a while and consider his offer, but his face makes all the more difficult to say no.

"I guess..."

"Great!" He suddenly gets excited. "I brought the plate here, just in case you decided to say yes."

I give him a small smile. "I'll finish getting dressed."

Funny how a week ago I ran away when Adrian spotted my in a towel, but now I'm in nothing but jeans and a bra, and somehow I'm not doing anything to prevent him from looking at me.

Maybe because I'm so exhausted from being scared all the time. Or maybe it's because I trust Adrian. Probably the former.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, stepping a little bit closer.

"What?" I breathe.

"Your back."

"I'm used to it."

"It's not enough," He says randomly.

"What?"

"Your dad going to jail isn't enough."

"It isn't?"

"No. What kind of a father would do this to his daughter?"

"I never really considered him my father," I tell him, in a somewhat disappointed way. If he had only treated me better, then maybe we would have had that bond that many fathers and daughters have. But instead, he went on to become an alcoholic, and showered me with insults, and abuses. Then he went on to mess with some guys who came home for revenge.

But he wasn't home. I was.

And now he did this. Maybe Adrian's right. Maybe he does deserve more than nine years in jail.

I slip on a sweatshirt, and Adrian's holding the plate.

"Thanks," I tell him, as I take the plate from his hands.

"I brought some strawberry ice cream, so I don't have to watch you eat all alone," He says, and points to a big bowl filled with the pink ice cream.

"You said you don't share your food. Then how come you shared it with me?" I wonder out loud.

"Because you're worth it."

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LAJFLADKSJFA;LKDSFJ HE'S SO CUTE.