Abuse can feel like love. I remembered his words from lit class. Starving people will eat anything. His eyes fell down my body again, his head cocking and taking the purple and red on one side of my torso and the others on my thighs. He didn’t have any marks that I could see, but there were other kinds of pain. “Will is like that,” he said, his voice softening, somber now. “Isn’t he?” Like a smile that doesn’t hurt. I nodded. “Easy, normal, peaceful…” he told me. “The only thing in my life untouched by anything ugly. Nothing has tainted him. He’s the one thing that’s still beautiful and thinks
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