30

~Abella 

I sit in front of the fire, staring at his wrist. 

The scars are silvery, precise lines leading up to a point in the centre, the deepest crimson red lingering in a circle under his skin. When I look down at my mark, my flesh almost completely torn to shreds, I can’t imagine how it will eventually form this very specific mark. I can’t imagine even sharing a mark with Noah in the first place. 

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