Sculptor || Bailey Wharton

In a world where nothing is certain, one thing we can be sure of is that everyone you meet leaves a mark on you. A small dent in your - once perfect - now moulded heart. Slowly, we are shaped as easily as clay into the people we are meant to be.

Some are fortunate enough to be painlessly and beautifully crafted into a model, ready to be displayed before the public eye. Others, not so much.

Liana Langford is anything but fortunate. Her soft, malleable skin was punched and hit by the roughest of sculptors until she was formed into an imperfect, cracked sculpture. She was destroyed by those who were supposed to guard her innocence and preserve her life. That kind of betrayal shapes a person far more than any physical damage could.

Bailey Wharton is so contrastingly similar it's almost non sensical. Hurt the most by the supposed protectors of his once weak - now guarded, heart and soul. Failed by the role models in his life, over and over again. In denial at the prospect of his world being flipped on it's axis.

Liana Langford and Bailey Wharton are more similar than appears to the naked eye. So similar that they're almost made for eachother. But their hearts have been moulded so violently that they've reached a point of no return.

Only the most powerful of sculptors could reshape their hearts and souls to fit like puzzles. The way they should.