Their Beautiful Madness
I lift my hands to his face, my thumbs brushing along the hard edges of his jaw as I tilt his head to get a good look at him.
My stomach twists. His left eye is swollen shut, the skin around it a deep, angry red that promises to turn purple by tomorrow. His nose doesn't look broken but a thin trail of fresh blood trickles from his nostril. His bottom lip is split, the raw skin glistening, and there's a slash across his cheekbone.
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