“We all have scars, lovely girl,” he said, turning toward me with a sad, almost wistful smile. “Some are out there, on your skin like an armor—a proof of your struggle. But some, the most vicious and destroying of all, are internal and they grow, fester, and…” He stopped suddenly and let out a shaky breath. “You’re amazing, you are perfect, and I feel a strong attachment to you that is unfamiliar and unsettling. I feel like you’re family and it’s again all new to me. Be grateful that it is not romantic—be grateful that all I want from you is your friendship and your trust.”
