𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐱 𝐎𝐂
❝ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑢𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎 ❞
Sabrina Swan was a work of art, a beautifully catastrophic mess of delicate colours and harsh brush strokes. She was the girl that could see the future and ye...
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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 12 𝚂𝙲𝙰𝚁𝚂
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
It's no secret that, in her short time on this Earth, Sabrina Swan had lived a rough life; something especially difficult for someone like her who possessed a more gentle disposition. But despite her 'soft' personality, the vast array of blotches and blemishes that littered her body were fit to tell the tale of any brave fighter that had been similarly put through hell.
Sabrina liked to think of her scars as paintings — each one telling their own story. And so, to her, her body was like a canvas full of tales painted by scars — each mark etched upon her skin whispering a unique narrative, a memoir of her short life's diverse chapters.
The faint bite mark nestled near the crook of her elbow, a testament to a battle bravely fought and won; it spoke of her true inner strength and her ability to stand up and fight for what she loved even in the face of adversity.
Another scar, the jagged line that traced her forearm, held the memory of a daring escapade, the great escape from Old Stones — an adventure that colored her spirit with wild hues and gave her her freedom.
Each imperfection painted a story: a tale of love lost, a moment of reckless courage, a lesson learned in hardship. Her scars weren't blemishes but rather an anthology of experiences, showcasing her strength, vulnerability, and the depth of her journey through life.
To her, the scars on her body were spoils of war that she carried with pride. As she would do with her newest set of scars.
"Sabrina, there's no way you're driving all the way back to Forks," Benny said to the girl as she leaned against Bella's orange truck in the middle of the night.
After the incident, once she had confirmed that Emily was alive, Sabrina had managed to escape into the night, leaving no traces of her presence for Charlie to find when he arrived at the scene — the girl didn't need to give him another reason to lose sleep.
She had run aimlessly through the forest, only stopping to throw up once in a while, before she reached the truck. Now, she stood with an old shirt she'd found in the truck, using it to put pressure on the bleeding lacerations that ran from the crook of her neck down the back of her shoulder — a rather awkward position that she couldn't quite reach on her own.
Benny had been horrified by them but, objectively speaking, the wounds weren't that bad. Sure, they were a little deep and a lot sore but they were honestly more like scratches that would be perfectly capable of healing without any stitches.
"Why not?!" She asked incredulously, "You drove our getaway car with a concussion way worse than mine!"
