Adopted by Five Seconds Of Summer

one

B R Y N N

"Brynn?"

My eyes opened slowly, squinting under the bright lights. I met my best friend's eyes, noting that he was hovering over my body.

"What is it?" I muttered.

"It's nearly eight. I let you sleep. And you know it'll be a lot worse if Miss Edna wakes you up instead of me."

"I'll get up, but don't expect me to be happy about it," I told him, swinging my feet onto the cold concrete and meeting my reflection in a mirror that hung on the wall.

I touched my short blonde hair, sighing because I had never liked the color.

My eyes, a shade of green that morning, though they tended to change every now and again, made me sick.

They were a bit too big for my liking.

I'd been in the orpahnage for as long as I could actually remember.

Really remember, I mean. Not just stories that I'd been told of what had happened when I was young.

Though, from what I had grasped from the stories, my mum died during my birth, and my father blamed me for her death.

I assume it was the reason as to why he began to hit me when I was about two. I couldn't know though, because I didn't know what had happened to him, and frankly, I'm not sure I really wanted to know.

I slowly stood from my bed, wishing I could stay there forever, it was far warmer than the drafty old dorm room, and I hadn't slept well last night.

I moved sluggishly to my drawer, pulling out a pair of jeans and a jumper, I made my way to the dorm room's showers.

Once I had the door to the shower stall shut and locked, I stripped down. I stared in the mirror, from the place where it hung on the wall, back to my reflection, and sighing at the scars lining my arms.

I took my shower quickly, and changed, humming softly to myself as I entered again into the dorm. As I was coming out, someone caught my arm. I tensed, but relaxed when I saw it was only Logan.

"Sorry," he apologised.

"It's alright," I mumbled.

He gave me a smile, that soon turned into a serious one. "Arms." He held both hands out and I sighed, but held my arms to him.

He rolled up my sleeves, and I closed my eyes, afraid to see his reaction.

He had found out a few months ago that I was self harming, and a few days ago he made me promise to stop. But the innocent teasing wasn't really all that innocent, and self harm, wasn't really something you could promise away.

I looked up to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I spoke softly.

He just shook his head and traced the fresh cuts, then pulled me into a hug. I breathed in his scent–reminding me faintly of honey,  and tried to forget the place that I was in, mentally and physically.