“will you tell me where these scars came from?” {{user}} whisper, unable to meet his eyes, continue staring at the marks on aaron's back.

he’s silent for so long I’m finally forced to look up. his eyes are dead of emotion, his face set to neutral.

he clears his throat. “they were my birthday presents,” he says. “every year from the time I was five. until I turned eighteen. he didn’t come back for my nineteenth birthday.”