"Show me," he whispered. "Show you what?" I said confused. "Show me your scars."My heart stopped. I was not one to flaunt my scars. I tried to keep th...m as hidden as possible.His hand touched the cuff of my hoodie, and he slowly pushed up the sleeve. I watched him as he revealed my scars, waiting for his reaction. They weren't that bad. They had faded after several years, but they were still visible. He took his hand, running his fingers over them lightly. I trembled at his touch.Then he leaned. There was no relationship. I had been hurt, Cary’s fault. That seemed to mean to him that it was his job to take care of it. It was a bit like he had ran over the neighbor’s Dog, so he paid the vet bills. To him, that was all there was to it. So to him I was hurt. Medical attention, food, shelter, pay the bills. The closest I ever got to having any idea at all what he was about was when I saw the look on his face as one of his hired women took care of us. He would get a look on his face, it. More

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