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Story Notes: Author's Notes..just a tiny little piece, but something i thought was interesting.


Her hands are covered in scars. A long thin white line on the back of her right hand, by the thumb. A brown chemical burn on the inside of her left wrist. A callous on her forefinger, where she's practiced pulling a trigger over and over again. A patch of white skin on the back of her left hand, a burn. A ridge of scar tissue running across her right palm. Every week, an old scar fades, a new patch of damage appears.

When he accidentally-on-purpose touches her hands, he can feel the rough, harsh, wounds underneath his own, equally scarred fingertips, and it makes him shudder for a second, that she should be so marked. But every blemish is a sign of who she is, what she does, and she is not ashamed of them, and he's is so proud of her. and sometimes she turns, and looks him in the eyes, and sees the pride.

He remembers other hands. Soft, gentle hands, untouched hands, carefully moisturised and protected. But he doesn't want the touch of those any more. All he wants is to run his fingers over her scarred, battered, burned hands, and feel the touch of them, so gentle, on his face.



Michelle B




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