Could anyone ever learn to love a girl with burns that take up more than 60% of her arms?
The girl that walks through the hall with a hoodie on to hide the few ugly scars that are on her face, but mostly to hide her arms. Those ugly, ugly arms.
Those arms that had been burned stretching out to save a mother that was burning to death in a house fire, A mother that would never make it out alive.
Could someone love these arms?
This scarred face?
These burns?
This broken heart?
This orphan?