I attend to her wounds and she attends to mine. We have a routine: we grab the red bucket left in the corner of our room, we then clean the blood from our hands, face, and floor, we move on to removing glass shards from beer bottles out of our skin, we rub the antibiotic cream into our wounds, and finally I do our make-up. Though it was easier for me because I had darker skin meaning it was harder to see the bruises and scars. Unlike Em, who was sickly pale color probably from malnourishment.

You could clearly see the purple and green on her skin. Well, I really can't say anything because some days I look like a unicorn puke rainbows on my small face.

If you are wondering I am 4'11. Yeah I know I'm pretty short. I'm skinny too. Like a walking skeleton. I also have mocha-colored curly hair. But I really won't go into any more into detail because there is not much else to describe. I am very plain.

But I'm grateful, it allows me to put my head down and walk among the shadows.

Em is the opposite: she is breathtakingly beautiful with silky raven hair, clear pale skin, small lips, and big blue eyes with thick eyelashes. She is 7 years younger than me but she is gorgeous. I guess that's why Blaine didn't wait as he did for me.

Blaine is the asshole who adopted me when I was a 7-year old. So I didn't see the signs. I didn't smell the beer, hear his slur, or see him staring at me. I did not think about the hugs or how he touched me. I thought it was normal until it hurt.