His entire body is covered in scars. Not just his wrists, but his everything. His chest is littered with bruises in various stages of healing. I swallow when my eyes land on the marred skin where his heart is. Five scars. Five jagged letters of the alphabet, pink and healing. Five letters that spell my name. I think I’m in shock, but something compels me to trace my fingers over the letters and Christian trembles under my touch, sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this the bad thing?” I whisper. He shakes his head and inhales a harsh breath. “You said you hated me.” I shake my head in confusion.
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