scars.
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- Parts 11
'Tell me your story.' She said promptly.
'My story?' I asked, brows drawn together in a deep, wrinkly frown.
She pointed at the welts on my back, some already scarring, some still painted red. 'Your story.' She threw her arms around, indicating the room. 'Your story.' She looked at my dried tear streaks. 'Your story.'
I sighed, fiddling with loose, greasy strands of my mahogany hair. 'It's not a happy story.'
She bit her lip, crossing her arms. 'I don't know any happy stories.'
I smiled sadly. 'Me neither.'
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(Trigger warnings for probably everything you can think of)
All Rights Reserved
#514
seasons
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