(Describing bruises and scars)
Shower time was his time. 10 pm, singing, shampooing, trying desperately not to run his fingers over the cuts and scars and trying even harder to pretend they weren't there. It was that one shot he got to pretend he was someone else. Something else. Maybe even pretend to be no one. To just think and let the water run long enough to feel a numbing sensation in his body and to leave his body as an empty shell. He liked to disappear deep into his own mind. Into a world he can't even describe.
Merlin loves to shower. And 10 pm was the only time he could do so. It was the only time nobody else came down to take a shower. He already knew that Arthur could his shower schedule by heart. 10 pm every other day. So if somebody were to come down Arthur would try to get there first to warn him. Merlin hadn't told Arthur why he never showers in front of the others. Or why he never changed in the bedroom. Why he's very uncomfortable to talk about his body to anyone. Or to show too much skin. And Arthur never asked. Almost like he knew. But on the other hand he might just think that it's just another weird thing with Merlin. Another quirky part to his quirky personality.
Merlin twisted the knob and walked out of the shower. He grabbed his soft black towel and wiped his face and chest. As he passed one of the mirrors over the sink he stopped and looked himself down in the reflection. He could see faded scars on his hips and lower stomach as well as down his thighs. It's not that many on his thighs but it's still enough. More than enough. The scars on his hips and thighs are slim and are clearly man made. But he does have some scars on his stomach and side. They're big and round and bulky. Some are even on his chest. He turned around and looked at his back. Long scar on his back. Covers half his left side. He remember when some of the guys stuck a stick in his wheel as he was fleeing for his life on his bicycle. He fell and managed to turn around in the air. He landed on a big pointy rock that followed him as he fell on the ground. Around the big scar is other small ones from other smaller rocks and a few nails. They're scattered carelessly around on his back but the big one on his left is what really stands out. He looked at the bruises he got while visiting Ealdor. He didn't remember much from those nights anymore. Only flashbacks. He remember one night when he was walking home with his bike and suddenly heard them calling his name. He remember them using their usual nicknames and homophobic sense of humour. The rest is just short flashes. Flashes of pain. He can clearly see them kicking him. Merlin twisting on the ground in pain and pure agony. He remember them leaving him as a broken pulp on the ground. He remember standing up, spitting out some blood from his mouth, picking up his bike and going home. He doesn't remember what he told his mother, the only thing he does know is that it wasn't the truth. He said something about crashing on his bike or something. He doesn't remember and he doesn't care. He just traced his fingers over the bruises on his lower back and stomach as he looks deep into the mirror and whisper with a hushed and broken tone. "Why am I like this?"
When he returned to the bedroom, newly changed and with slightly damp hair the others was asleep. He raised the duvet, sat down, took his pyjama bottoms off and climbed into bed. When he turned the light off he heared Arthur's voice in the night. "Are you okay?" And Merlin simply replied with the same lie he's been telling himself all this time. Through all the bullying, through all the blood, through every night with silent sobs that has lulled him to sleep. He told the boy he loves the same lie he's been telling himself for as long as he can remember.
"I'm fine."