The vertical lines that run down his forearms are the most disturbing, thick and jagged as if someone took a razor to his skin. I wish I could run my fingers along them and remove the pain and memories that are attached to them.

At least tell me you won? And that the scratches and dings were totally worth it." "Of course. They're always worth it," he says with a hidden meaning that only the two of us could ever understand.

You really need stitches," she tells me."Or you're going to have a scar." I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. "I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.

In the existence of our lives, there is a single coincidence that brings us together and for a moment, our hearts beat as one.

Because people fear those who are different. And fear can make people do stupid things.

The guy behind the counter scratches his neck. “Are you being serious?” Her face is stoic. “Absolutely. I never kid about teddy bears.

I love you, Ella May," I whisper, kissing her cheek. "And one day I want to be doing this exact same thing at our wedding.