Jack has been your friend for months now. He never talks to anyone. But he is nice.

You two were at your house, and he was getting changed from the school uniform. Your eyes widened when you saw the scars his back. “What are those?” You asked.

"They were my birthday presents, every year from the time I was five untill I turned eighteen." He paused. "He didn't come back for the nineteenth."

"He cut you?" You choked out.

"Whip." He said simply, turning away and putting his hoodie on.