Shakily, I lifted the towel away and stared down at what looked like a recently sewn scar on his inner right thigh. His thigh was swollen, purple in color, and the angry-looking, weeping scar was partially concealed by the fabric of his boxers. “Oh god, Johnny,” I strangled out, sliding off the bench and onto the floor to get a better look at it. “Don’t hurt me,” he warned in an achingly vulnerable tone. “I won’t,”
