It still looked raw, after more than four months. If the scar on her skin was still that vivid, he wondered what the scars on her mind were like. ‘D...es it hurt?’ He asked, still holding her hand. She had stopped pulling but was looking down at the printed bedsheet. ‘Sometimes. Doesn’t matter, though.’ She looked up, her eyes sadder now. ‘I did it, remember?’ Brandon sighed again, his grip slackening, allowing Isabel to pull her hand away. She didn’t wear the glove again. Instead, she tugged the. ." Fuck that. Let a bully talk like that to you and then run off? She'll just bully you again and again, and you'll never be able to come back here again! Bitch." Mother! Language!"But she couldn't hear me over the music. And we danced. And after about two songs, the anger left her face. She was smiling again. An honest smile. She was actually having fun. She wasn't faking it. And I realized what a beautiful smile Mom had. She really was a beautiful woman, just beat down by a. More

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