My fingers trace along his forearm and arrow tattoo. The one I’m sure he got for me. It’s a reminder of our past on his skin. Just like his scars and mine.
Proof we both survived.
We’re survivors.
“Monsters are born.” He leans over to bite my lower lip then whispers in dark words. “As they grow up, they either deny it or fully embrace it, but it doesn’t change what they are.”