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We 

are 

so 

much 

more 

than 

our 

scars

~d.j. 

***

The sobs slowly stopped until hiccups replaced them.

And then silence.

"They went to the pack house."

I look up and meet Atlas's eyes.

"Jay went there to tell Lilah to ready the warriors. They are searching for Cal."

I shudder at the mention of his name.

"I need to show you something."

Atlas doesn't say a word as I stand and lead him down the hall.

Into the bathroom.

I turn the sink on, and slowly, start the process of cleaning my hands.

Taking away my paint, to reveal the flesh that was hidden underneath.

"Lexie, what are you doing?"

"I need to show you something."

"What is it."

He stands behind me, giving me some space, but I still feel his warm breath rush over me.

"You'll see."

I stand there for a long time, scrubbing and scrubbing.

Atlas helps me.

His warm hands encase mine as he takes them and slowly chips away my armor.

Until there is no paint left.

"This."

I hold up my wrist to reveal what the paint had been hiding all along.

Thin scars.

"They're scars."

Atlas has tears in his eyes as I reveal to him my other pain.

How I coped with myself.

"They are not just scars. They are the demons I fought, late in the night. They are my insecurities. My fears. My lonely heart's cry. They are the insults I gave myself. And the emotions I couldn't contain. They are me. A part of me. And what I am."

Atlas takes my wrist in his hands, looking at the faint lines.

The lines that I had made at fourteen years old because I couldn't stand the sight of my body in the mirror.

Because whenever I looked I didn't see a body.

I saw a scar.

I saw his face.

I saw those dark folds of the trees.

I saw a bleeding wound and a coward's heart.

Because flashbacks and triggers. The smallest thing- would set me off. Because it was like living in a constant rerun. Like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. The pounding fact -

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