summer-chronicles

When I see your scars, do I want to erase them? Absolutely. But not your physical scars. The real ones, beneath the surface. The ones that compel you to stay silent or force you to cringe. Those are the scars I want to obliterate._ His finger circles the dip of a burn mark on her forearm. __his is a battle trophy and nothing to be ashamed of. Every one of your scars makes you more beautiful to me.

Avery slides on his glasses and opens his eyes again. __ammit!_ he says again with more feeling. __hy does stuff like this keep happening?___ou say that as if it__ a bad thing,_ Rob says, smirking.

Maybe the Society was right all along. From the very beginning, that__ what they called her. A time bomb.Tick, tick, tick.

I thought it was just him,_ she says, ignoring him. __ut then I found out I had the same effect, which means the Society did something to my head too.__age__ eyes close, horror washing over him. __ou really do love him.___es. No. I don__ know._ Her cries start up again, piercing his heart. __age, help me.___ love you,_ he says, holding her closer. __hat__ real.

Just in case you__e wondering,_ Gage says, breaking the silence, __his alliance of ours doesn__ mean I like you.___eeling__ mutual._ Julian tosses him a disdainful look.

I__ sorry,_ he says. No two words were ever truer.Still, she says nothing. Once a shield, now her taciturnity is brandished like a blade, carving away his sanity. She__ the flaw in the paragon of life__he reason angels choose to dive to their downfalls in fiery comets of stardust.

I can____on__ do that to him,_ Summer says sharply. __r to myself. Besides, your feelings for me aren__ real. The Society did this to you. And if they did it to you, they probably scrambled my brain too. I can__ trust that any of this is real.

A layer of fine powder coats his skin.__y lungs are turning to concrete,_ Rob wheezes, hacking and spitting.__o are my eyes. How do I always get roped into these things?_ Avery coughs and pats Rob__ back in sympathy. A poof of dust billows from the contact.

You should__e told me,_ she repeats. __ecause here__ a news flash: You might__e wanted to shelter me, but there__ nowhere you can hide me that__l keep me safe from what__ inside my head.

Summer turns and marches away, fed up with being handled like a child. Like she__ a glass doll that might break at any minute. She hasn__ been a child since the day she was whipped into muteness. Anxiety might strangle her sometimes, but she__ not some baby needing to be coddled.

Why won__ you look at me?_ she murmurs.He doesn__ speak, seemingly at a loss for words.__t__ my scars._ It comes out as barely a whisper.Horror spasms across his face. __hat? No,_ he says, a bit breathless. __ou__e beautiful. All of you.

He holds her with the strength of a million-man army, but with all the tenderness of her heart lying naked in the palms of his hands.

When the nurse leaves, Doctor Rose mouths, __ct like you__e in pain._ Then she mimics a painful expression in case Summer doesn__ understand. On the contrary, Summer__ an expert at interpreting body language and reading lips. It__ all thanks to her observant nature while enslaved on the Cosmos. Who else could tell that Peter__ discomfort is due to him wearing the same pair of underwear for a week straight? Ah, yes, she always knew when day six and seven approached. She watched the crew member with much amusement as he waddled, pulled wedgies, and scratched his bum relentlessly. Not that anyone else cared to know that little nugget of information.