SCARS

HUNTER'S P.O.V

"Fuck..I did this."

The memories hit like a sledgehammer to the skull.

Last night, her body was against the wall, she cried endlessly.

I couldn't remember everything, but I knew I choked her, not once, but multiple times. I told her to stop crying while I kept going like a monster.

"Baby..." My voice came out hoarse, almost broken.

Her lashes fluttered as she fought back a tidal wave of tears, one slip and they'd fall.

I reached for her hand, pulling her close to me, her body stiffened, but she didn't resist, not really, but she didn't melt into me either. She only let me hold her because she was tired, not because she wanted to.

She cried into my chest, her tears soaked through my shirt, and I let her— it was the least I deserved.

Her head is cradled in my arms, and I bend to kiss the top of it, listening to her sniff through the tears. What could I say to fix this?

Another apology? Another promise? She's heard them all; she was tired of them. Words meant nothing now, not after everything.

"We don't have to go to class," I said lamely, as if that would fix the damage.

She didn't answer, and I didn't expect her to, because I sounded fucking dumb. Her silence was heavy and condemning, and I deserved it.

I led her to the bed and sat her down. I looked at her once, but couldn't bring myself to look at her again. The hatred radiating from her was so sharp I could bleed from it. It was as though she saw every horrible truth about who I was.

"Can I help you with it?" I finally forced out, jerking my chin toward the bruises.

"I'm good, Hunter." Her tone was ice.

She got up, heading to the bathroom cabinet, took out a bottle of disinfectant and cotton wool. I watched her soak the wool with the disinfectant. Her hands shook as it hovered over her skin, contemplating whether to clean the scars or not. She was scared of the sting she'd feel, she shouldn't have to do this alone.

I went to meet her.

"Come here," I whispered. "Baby... please."

She stared at me blankly for a long second, like she was deciding whether she could stand to be near me. She stepped forward, finally agreeing.

I led Vera back to the bed, she sat and braced herself for whatever burning sensation she was bound to feel when the soaked wool came in contact with her open bruises.

The moment it did, she flinched sharply, clamping her eyes shut. Tears slipped off her cheeks as I worked carefully, like I was touching broken glass.

I grabbed the ointment from the drawers, rubbing a small amount between my fingers to warm it, before gently applying it across the bruises.

I finished, then pulled away.

"I'm done," I whispered.

She didn't respond; she went to the bathroom to inspect it through the mirror, while I remained on the bed, waiting for her to come back.

Shame coiled around me like barbed wire, there was nothing I could do to fix this

She left the bathroom, unwrapped her towel, and dressed quietly, avoiding my eyes the entire time.

My gaze drifted around the room and I saw things I hadn't noticed earlier. The cans of beer in the dustbin by the entrance, the broken drawer in the corner, my clothes from last night were in the laundry basket. Vera had cleaned the entire room as best as she could.

She returned to the bed, her back facing me, like a wall. I stared at the ceiling until I couldn't stand my own thoughts.

"Vera..."

I knew she could hear me.

"I'm a bad person," I said, my throat tight. "I hate what I did to you."

"You're abusive, Hunter, and no... you're not a good person," she agreed.

It hurt when she said that, but she was right.

"You may never forgive me. But I really am sorry, Vera."

She turned to face me, trying her best to sit up. I moved closer to her, instinctively.

"There's something deeply wrong with you, Hunter. We weren't like this before, where is this coming from?"

She paused, waiting to get a response from me, but I didn't have one.

"You don't even talk about Mary anymore," she said, still searching my eyes for answers. "Why?"

*Because there's nothing to talk about.*

"I'm sorry, Vera," I apologised, ignoring her last question.

"Hunter," Vera called, holding my eyes. "Is there something else—"

"I'm over it, it's not about her," I responded quickly.

"It's absolutely fine if you're not. It's just that...the way you've been treating me," her voice started to break. "Last night, I thought..." She closed her eyes, wiping off the tears that had escaped.

"I thought I would..."

*Die?*

The word hung between us, not one of us dared to say it. But I stayed silent, watching her. I had put her through a lot when all she ever wanted to do was be there for me.

Vera doesn't deserve this; she deserves—

"We need space, Hunter."

My chest caved in.

"I think I want to stay with my parents for a while."

I couldn't feel my pulse. I had messed up big time, but what the hell do I say?

"No, stay with your abuser."

I'd rather die.

"Okay, Vera. I understand," I replied.

She blinked, surprised, waiting for me to say something else.

"Just tell me when you want to go," I said.

Vera thought for a moment, a long one.

"Tonight," she said.

"Sure, no problem," my voice cracked, and I swallowed, trying mask the heavy emotion present in my tone. "I can take you, if you want."

Vera inched closer to me, cupping my face with trembling fingers.

"Are you... okay with this?"

*What?*

Was she seriously asking if I was okay with her leaving and just wanting better for herself?

"I don't know," I admitted quietly.

She nodded, withdrawing her hand as if touching me hurts her now.

"Okay."