girl meets the secret to life | lucaya & riarkle

36. Girl Meets Pain.

I wake up to the most terrifying, blood curdling scream of me life.

Lucas.

He hadn't done that yet.

I immediately sit up straight in bed, and shake him softly awake.

"Lucas... love, where are you?"

We're currently in the house the school will be renting for us for three weeks until we find our own house that we'll use the insurance to pay for.

There are three bedrooms in the house, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room.

Lucas and I share the master room, the twins share a room, and Lizzy and Isaac share the other room.

He continues to scream, and I shake him harder.

As he wakes up with a final cry, I stare into his scared green eyes.

"Lucas."

"Maya! The fire! What?"

I sigh, and wrap my arms around him.

"That's all over, love. That was a month ago."

"But it was here," He sighs. "I saw it. I was burning in it."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, pressing my lips against his neck. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

"But it felt so real. I felt it again."

"I know..."

"I need a shower," He says, standing up. He takes off his shirt slowly, being careful with his back.

I think he has scars and marks there. Thank goodness for plastic surgery, his face looks like it used to. His arms are only slightly licked by flames. So I think his back had gotten the most of it. He hasn't shown me it yet though.

As I see it for the first time though, I gasp.

It was terrible.

"Lucas," I whisper.

His once smooth and perfect back had now been demolished by flames.

It was pink and red and black and white, filled with gashes and scars.

"You did that for me? For our family?" I whisper.

"I love you all," He says, touching a scar on his side.

"You hate them. The scars?"

"Of course I do."

"Love..." I start.

"Maya, I hate them. They're scars, and everyone will hate me because of them," He sighs.

I get off the bed, and walk towards him. I turn him around, so that I can stare at his back.

"I love them."

"You're lying," He shoots back.

"No, no I'm not," I reply. "Every curve, every hurt piece of skin, it represents something. And that is something I love. I will forever be grateful for you and your wonderful scars," I say, as I turn him around.