Bruises

tŵëntŷ

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

•nelson mandela•

I went to sleep early that night, dreaming of both my brother and Tim hitting me.

Waking up, all I could hear was water running through the drainpipes to and from the upper levels. I rolled out of bed, crouching on the floor with my head against the edge of my bed.

I thought that he was the light, bright and shining and beautiful.

He still was that, but maybe my first assumptions were wrong;

Maybe he wasn't perfect.

I noticed that his smile had disappeared upon seeing my bruises, his twinkles had faded.

He did care, but I didn't know if I could truly care for him.

Maybe the likeness to my brother went further than the eyes, further than the dirty blonde hair.

I hoped it didn't, and I knew I was again being selfish.

But I couldn't help it, the same way I couldn't help wanting to forgive him and hug him and cry into his shirt.

I needed the light, even if the light was dim.

_

Short chapter, but they all are.

Will she forgive him?

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