Camilla Carter has had a rough life of abuse and pain. Her twin sister protects her as much as she can, until she can't. Keaton Woods, a boxing fighter who hates any man for laying a finger on a woman. Keaton is also an underground fighter. How does...
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"You are not a victim. Just a fighter, with scars that few can understand."
✰✰✰
The next day, I am standing in front of Keatons mirror by his desk, with my sweatshirt up. I look down and stare at all of the scars going across my stomach.
I feel so worthless. Camryn died because I couldn't protect her one time. My mom died because she saved me.
Now Keatons life is in danger if I refuse to do the one thing I hate most.
Tears brim the surface of my eyes in humiliation.
Why does Keaton even want to be with someone like me?
Why do Adrian and Maggie even want to be friends with someone like me?
It's even etched across my skin.
You're nothing more than shards of glass.
"Cami..."
I quickly drop the ends of the sweatshirt and wipe my tears before turning around and giving Keaton a smile.
"Hey." I say, voice even.
He doesn't say anything. He walks up to me and cups my cheeks. "Camilla, what is it?"
I shake my head in his hands. "Nothing."
"That wasn't nothing. What was that?"
I shut my eyes tightly, silently.
Keaton tugs at the end of the sweatshirt. "Show me." He whispers.
I open my eyes and look at him. I shake my head. "We both know you won't like what you see."
Without another word, Keaton interlocks our hands and walks towards the bathroom.
He lifts me up by my waist and sets me on the counter.
"Cami, I know how you think about the scars etched across your skin. I know how scared and lonely you feel. But I am right here, you don't have to hide anymore."
Meeting his eyes, I nod.
He grabs the end of the sweatshirt and carefully pulls it over my head till I am left sitting in leggings and a sports bra.
His fingers graze the scars, petrified that touching them will bring back all the horrid memories of being stabbed or a gun pointed at me.
It's not the ones on my stomach that bring his attention. He picks up my left arm.
The one with the carving on it.
He carefully outlines the carving with his finger.
