#twloha

The scars on your arms, the ones that crept up from your wrists and onto your forearms, a map of the times you had tried to make sense of your pain. The scars on your legs, hidden beneath jeans or long skirts, where the marks still whispered of nights when the weight of the world had felt unbearable.

In those moments, you had tried to regain control, even if it meant hurting yourself. The shame of those moments had built up over time, and now, even though your scars had long healed, the emotional wounds were still raw. You hadn’t told Kenny because you were scared—scared that he would look at you differently, that his kindness would turn into pity or disgust.

That’s why you always kept your sleeves long, your pants covering the skin of your legs. It was easier to hide. Easier to pretend that everything was okay, even when the darkness inside you still clawed at your thoughts.

Tonight, though, that darkness felt closer than ever.

Kenny had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to hang out, but you had made an excuse. You told him you were tired, even though you knew you wouldn’t sleep. It was easier than explaining the truth—that you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you like this, with your mind spiraling and your insecurities clawing at your chest.

You sat on the floor, your back against your bed, staring at your arms in the dim light of your room. The streetlights outside shone through the window, casting long shadows across the walls. The scars were faint, but they were still there, reminders of the nights you’d spent feeling so lost and alone. The lyrics of a song you’d been listening to on repeat for days echoed in your mind—“Well, she won’t leave this night alone, and she won’t sleep at all. And all the sorrow that she takes out on herself…”

The lyrics resonated with you in a way that was both comforting and painful. You knew all too well what it felt like to take your sorrow out on yourself, to feel like you were carrying the weight of the world and not knowing where to put it down. You closed your eyes, the melody filling the room, and wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to push the thoughts away.

But they wouldn’t go. Not tonight.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at your door. You froze, your heart pounding. You hadn’t expected anyone—especially not Kenny.

“Hey, it’s me,” Kenny’s voice came from the other side, muffled but warm. “You didn’t answer my last text. I just wanted to check on you.”

You hesitated, staring at the door, unsure of what to do. You hadn’t prepared for this. You weren’t ready to see him, not like this. But before you could respond, the door creaked open just a little, and Kenny poked his head in, his messy blonde hair falling into his eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but nodded anyway. Kenny stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He took one look at you, sitting there on the floor, and his expression softened with concern.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching down in front of you.

You wanted to lie, to tell him you were fine, that it was just one of those days, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting you,” you mumbled, pulling your sleeves down a little more, trying to hide your arms.

“I know,” Kenny said softly. “I just… I had a feeling. You didn’t seem like yourself earlier.”

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. You felt exposed, like he could see right through you, even though you hadn’t said a word about what was really going on.

There was a long pause, and then, slowly, Kenny reached out and gently took your hands in his. His touch was warm, comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on that instead of the storm of thoughts in your mind.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words, so simple yet so sincere, made something inside you crack. The fear, the shame—it all came rushing to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, you started to cry.

“Kenny…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

He squeezed your hands gently, his gaze steady on yours. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. This was it. This was the moment you had been dreading. You pulled your hands away from his and slowly rolled up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the scars on your forearms. The tears kept falling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“These… they’re from… from before. From when things were really bad. I—I never wanted you to see them, because I was scared. I’m still scared. I thought if you knew, you’d think I was… I don’t know, broken or something.”

For a long moment, Kenny didn’t say anything. His eyes were locked on the scars, and his face was a mix of emotions—sadness, understanding, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You braced yourself for the worst, for him to pull away or to look at you with pity, but instead, he did something you never expected.

Kenny leaned in slowly, and with the utmost care, he pressed a gentle kiss to one of your scars. Then another. And another.

Each kiss felt like a balm to your wounded heart, like he was trying to erase the pain that had marked your skin, trying to show you that you weren’t broken, that you were loved. Tears streamed down your face, but they weren’t just tears of sorrow anymore. There was something healing in the way Kenny touched you, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were filled with so much tenderness that it made your chest ache.

“I hate that you went through this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate that you felt like you had to hurt yourself. But these scars… they don’t make me love you any less. They don’t change anything.”

You choked back a sob, feeling overwhelmed by his words, by the depth of his understanding. “But… how can you still want to be with me after seeing this? I’m a mess, Kenny.”

Kenny shook his head, his hands finding yours again, holding them tightly. “Everyone’s got their stuff, okay? Everyone’s been through shit. But that doesn’t make you any less amazing. It doesn’t make you less worthy of love. You’re not a mess. You’re just… human. And I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His words echoed in your mind, overlapping with the song that still played softly in the background—“And the stars are always there, but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. Remember hope. Hold onto hope. We have hope.”

Kenny leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, and his presence, so steady and sure, made the storm inside you quiet for the first time in what felt like forever.

“We’ll get through this,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You nodded, your tears finally slowing, and for the first time in a long time, you believed him. You weren’t alone. Kenny was here, and he saw you—all of you, even the parts you were ashamed of. And he still chose to stay.

The darkness in your mind wasn’t gone, and you knew there would still be hard days ahead. But for now, in this moment, you felt the warmth of Kenny’s love like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. His kisses on your scars were reminders that you were more than your pain, more than your past.

You were loved.

And that was enough to keep you holding on to hope.

Important Note:

To everyone who still struggles; it will get better, it will be manageable, you're not broken; you're just human. It took me over 15 years to not rely on that but I am clean now, and I know, you can be too. I believe in you. You are loved.