Her lip trembles as she lifts the hem of her shirt, exposing some of the worst bruises I’ve ever seen on a living person. Her stomach and sides are shades of purple and pink. A yellow haze outlines anything that has begun to heal. This makes my heart quicken. Marks like that would have caused her a lot of pain. My mouth hangs open. I can’t believe what I’m looking at. I can’t believe how much it bothers me. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care. But I do. She has a way about her that makes me want to rip her away from all that hurt her so I can shield her under my own tattered wings. “Goddamn it,
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