Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at his glaring face.
I know he's not glaring at me.
He has this habit of being very expressive about what he's feeling. You can always tell it on his face when he's really upset about something.
And he looks like his patients is wearing thinner every second.
He started off looking sad and confused. The longer I don't tell him what happened, the more pissed off he gets.
"Maria," he said, grabbing my waist and trying to turn me around so he could see the scars on my back better.
"Wolfie, no. Stop," I told him, pushing his hands away.
"Who did this to you?!" He growled.
"No one. Just let me go," I'm already crying, but I feel like I'm about to ball . The lump in my throat is growing by the second.
"No one?! How could no one have done this?!" He seethed. He yanked me around so we were standing in front of the mirror where he had a clear view of my back.
One of his hands were lifting my shirt to expose my whole back, and the other was holding my hip in a strong grip.
I looked behind me to see what he's seeing and saw the hideous sight.
Every time I see the ugly scars, it reminds me why I avoid mirrors after showers and backless or strapless dresses.
I'm so hideous underneath all the craziness.
So weak.
All my energy seemed to leek out of me at the sight.
I turned back around and couldn't even bring myself to look at his chest, let alone his eyes.
I looked to the floor and slowly drew in on myself. I crossed my arms over my chest and hunched forward.
He saw the part I don't want anyone seeing.
I had him. I actually had him.
Now I've lost him because of these d@mn scars.
He thinks I'm weak now. Like everyone else does when they see them.
The sad thing is, I can't say they're wrong.
When the uglier scars are covered, I'm the strongest person in the world. I don't care what people think.
When their not, I'm a scared little girl, again.
It'd be different if I didn't still have nightmares. Maybe if my parents weren't gone. Or maybe if the way I got them wasn't so f**ked up and it didn't replay every time I see them.
I hate
Why do I have to
even sleep because of this
am I failing at something so
Babies do it!
It happened seven years ago, for crying out
Wolfie is hugging me.
standing with his arms, scent, and goodness wrapped around
frost bite that felt like it was ripping
I
into the crook of my neck. He's no longer looking in the mirror at the
my shirt fall, but
of rough way he did before, but the way a lover
Which threw me for a freaking
ya thinking about?"
My insides did
Wolfie if there weren't mood swings, would
"Nothing," I mumbled
more
I stayed
this maybe have something to do with the nightmares?" He questioned
ignored his question for a second to
is confusing
is he acting like
Why is he running his hands along my back like
he acting like
under my chin and tilted my head up to look at
I hate this action. I don't know why. It's one of my pet peeves in life. If you wanna piss me off and make
moment, I feel so small and vulnerable. I'm pretty sure even if I tried
that
hugged me tighter, "C'mon, please, talk
made my mind reel but my
is just a
wasn't so invasive and insistent, we wouldn't even be on this ride, now that we're on it, I feel like letting him hold my hand through
means
. It's what my nightmares are about," I started slowly, hugging myself tighter and detaching
happy about it. If I didn't think he would chase me down if
about as appealing as a snake latching
are they about?"
D@mn your compelling voice.
kidnapped me," I mumbled
I shrunk into myself
didn't say anything.
kidnapped you?"
.
my voice
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