Surviving At Stanford

Chapter 6

February

-Third Person POV-

Their lips met for a few amazing seconds, before they pulled away. Left behind on Sam's lips, was the slight dampness from Jess' rosy ones. Sam stared into her blue eyes, never leaving them for a few seconds.

Jess wrapped an arm around Sam's neck and pulled him closer.

Sam tried to ignore the pain radiating from the scars and cuts on his back, fighting back a wince and a whimper because he knew he couldn't let her see the damage. Couldn't let her see what his life truly entailed, and always had. She'd run a mile. All the others had. No one wanted to be friends with the freak, nevermind want to date him.

Jess winced slightly too, sensing that she had hurt Sam, although he was trying his best to hide it from her. Removing her arm from around his neck, she simply took hold of his hands instead with a reassuring smile as she mentally kicked herself for forgetting. Sam had told her about his Mom, and what happened to her when he was young. He had told her of the fire that claimed her, and nearly him too. She knew he had scars, both physical and psychological. It was only human that he would. People don't just walk out from things like that without carrying a hefty weight of grief, guilt and a whole bunch of other unwanted crap. She knew he hadn't told her everything, but Jess didn't mind. As long as he had him, that was all that mattered. Telling her was his choice, and she believed that in time, he would open up to her more.

Sam hated lying to Jess, but it was the only way that he could protect her. He couldn't tell her about the scars that he had been hiding. He couldn't tell her that a Wendigo had been the one to cause them. He couldn't tell her the stories behind how he got all the other scars on his body. So instead, he kept her in the dark, keeping her innocence intact.

-Jess' POV-

Lying next to Sam, I turned over on the pillow so that I was facing him and smiled softly, tracing a finger down his cheek.

Sam has his own defense mechanism. Some people avoid him for this reason. They think he's damaged and one to stay away from. Too much trouble to be friends with. Too much hassle to have a conversation with. They don't know how wrong they are. Yes, it takes time for him to truly let you in, but once you've met that Sam, you never want to let him go. He puts on this mask to hide his true emotions, and he's good at it. But once you know the signs, you can see the scared little boy hidden inside him. The broken little soldier, carrying scars of a war. A war that he fought too young, and had to deal with as he grew up. When he knows that you can see, you witness him shutting himself up, mentally tormenting himself for getting too close. Hiding back behind a shirt with sleeves that are slightly too long, or a oversized hoodie that he can block out the world in.

Sitting up, I looked down at him before taking his hand in mine.

He knows what I've been thinking about, the fear is visible in his dewy green eyes.

It pains me to see him so afraid.

He sits up too, looking down at our hands before a few seconds later, returning my gaze. "Please don't ask about..." He doesn't finish his sentence.

I sigh and place a hand gently on the back of his neck before smiling sadly. Leaning close and pressing my lips against his, I then pull away.

Sam looks at me as if thinking 'Why did she ever choose me?'

But when you love someone, you accept them whatever form they're in.

"I love you, Sam." I stated softly. "And I know you find that hard to believe, but I do."

A small smile crossed Sam's face, before his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. As he began lifting it up, I noticed how much his hands were shaking as he did.

Once Sam removed his shirt, that's when I saw the real Sam. The Sam that he had been trying to hide away. The number of scars and cuts covering his body made me want to cry.

Sensing the shock in my eyes, I can see the regret in Sam's. Fumbling with the material of the shirt, he goes to put it back on, eyes never meeting mine.

Placing a hand reassuringly on top of his I smile softly before taking hold of the shirt and placing it down on the bed.

I witness him relax slightly.

Looking at the scars, I didn't know what had happened for him to get all these, nor did I want to know what he had suffered. I didn't ask either. Instead, I traced the thin scar on his shoulder with my finger, feeling how smooth it felt to the touch, despite how much it stood out from the tone of his skin. My gaze then lifted to his face.

Sam's head was lowered as he stared down at the blankets.

Sam didn't realise just how perfect he was. Placing a hand on his cheek, I pushed back the hair of his bang and smiled gently.

His green eyes eventually met mine once again.

Kissing him softly, I close my eyes as I relish in the warmth of his lips against mine.

And in that moment, I vowed to make sure that he would never suffer again.

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