𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐 ↣ 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉

twenty-four - fireproof

[do right people with wrong timing
ever get a second chance?]

_________________________________

I stared at my reflection. I waited for it to change. It didn't. It never did.

I was in a bikini. It was cute, and red was definitely one of my best colors. But the scars. They littered my stomach and my back in a way I wished they didn't. There was no way to hide them.

I tried to pull my hair to cover it. The curls that used to go to the bottom of my rib cage now ended at my belly button. It helped, but it wasn't enough.

The scars were one of the things I didn't want anyone knowing about. I'm not proud of them. I don't look at them and feel like I survived something.

I didn't want anyone knowing about them, especially not those five boys. I knew it would make them angry. Not at me, but for what was done to me when I was a child.

But they didn't need to be angry. I had enough hate for the people that did those things to me for all six of us.

I looked away from the mirror. I dug through my closet and pulled out an oversized white t-shirt. I wiggled into it just as someone walked into my room.

"Let's go, slowpoke," Zayn said. I stepped out of the closet and he raised his eyebrows.

"Says the boy who takes 20 minutes to do his hair," I quipped back.

"You think it could look this good with no effort?" Zayn asked sarcastically, mouth dropped in faux hurt. "Whatever, come on, let's go," He said. He reached out to grab my wrist and then stopped himself at the last second, instead just gesturing for me to go first.

We walked out to the backyard, where the rest of the boys were splashing around.

"Come in, the waters great," Niall said.

"Give me a few minutes," I laughed back. Instead, I sat down next to Zayn.

"You're not going to get in, are you?" He asked me quietly.

"No, um, I don't think I am," I said back. I brought my real leg up to my chest.

"You're trying to hide the scars, yeah?" He asked.

I blinked, and choked, and found my composure all in the same second.

"...What?" is what I managed to say.

"That one time you were really sick on tour. You dropped a cup or something and it woke me up. I walked out into the the kitchen to see what happened and you were kneeling in your sports bra trying to pick up broken glass," Zayn explained, voice soft.

"I don't remember that happening."

"You were delusional with fever so I wouldn't expect you to."

"Did you tell them?" I asked, looking out at the boys splashing in the water.

"No, I didn't. Did that guy from the interrogation room give you those?" He asked. I thought back to when I made Zayn go into the room with me. He watched me confront the man who almost killed me.