Our Scars remind us that past is real

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                Tris's POV
        "I love you," Tobias tells me late at night.  I'm home now and it's the middle of the night.  Both of my parents don't accept Four because of how he's known. We live in a small,  sleepy town,  and that leads for everyone to know how he is the "bad boy".
      He found a way to climb up to my balcony and come in.  Now,  we're laying down together facing each other. 
     "What did you say?" I ask to make sure I heard him right.  He touched my cheek. 
     "I love you, Tris Prior," he says. I lean in and kiss him.  He makes me feel like I have some worth.  He makes me feel good and-and happy at times. 
     "I love you too," I say against his lips. He acts like that was the first time anyone has ever told him that and crashes our mouths together. His tongue glides across my bottom lip,  asking for entrance.  I gladly allow him and bring my hands to his hair. 
      "You're the only person other than my sister to say that to me," he says. I narrow my eyes. 
      "What about your father?" He shakes his head and looks at my arms. 
        "He's abusive. The day you seen my tattoo I had convinced my sister to put make up on all the areas the whip scars that are really visible. He killed my mom when she was still pregnant with me. My dad had rushed her to the hospital and made it look like someone else did. My brother told me everything before he passed away."
       I don't give him that kicked puppy look. He's not one.  He's strong.  "Can I see your back?" I ask. He gives me a small smile before getting up and turning on the light.  Removing his shirt the tattoo comes into my view.  Scars are also there.  It doesn't faze me though.  If anything it makes me love him more.
      "I love you so much," I tell him.  He turns around and kisses me. A new feeling I've never experienced awakens in me.  Want.  He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Laying me down on my bed he kisses my neck. 
    Moving my shirt lower so my collar bones are exposed. He smiles when he sees my ravens.  "The good girl has a tattoo?"
        I chuckle.  "The bad for likes the good girl?" I ask.  He shakes his head.
      "No. The bad boy loves the good girl. She's his wallflower"
    

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