sam knew he wasn't a pretty boy.
he could see it now, as he stood in front of the old, foggy mirror in the bathroom. no pretty boy has ugly, purple marks lining his slightly sunken-in ribs. no pretty boy has a busted lip, a fresh red handprint on his face. no pretty boy cried himself to sleep, muffling his sniffles and whimpers with his tear-stained pillow.
and no pretty boy would ever look at him the way he wanted them to.