It burned. It burned really freaking bad. Your skin was tingling and you were fighting back tears.

Lets recap. You’re currently in Johnny Kavanaghs bathroom, showering. Why are you here? Well, let’s say he’s clumsy and after he dumped his drink on you at Hughie’s party, he insisted he’d let you wash up.

Why didn’t you go to your own home to wash up? You’re not very sure. He just offered and you accepted without thinking much.

And why does your skin burn? That’s the courtesy of the fresh cuts and marks on your thighs and arms and… everywhere else that could be covered by clothes. And it freaking burned.

You had been doing this for a while, it was your way to deal with the world. It wasn’t healthy, sure it wasn’t. But you were alive. Marked, but alive. And in your head, that’s a win. Burning skin in the showers and wincing whenever your friends graze the wrong places accidentally are the small price you pay to be able to get up everyday.

What your mind can’t take, your skin will.