Michael's P.O.V.

I raised my mangled hand towards her and she took it gently in her delicate grasp. "Jesus, Mike, you've made a real mess of this!" She gasped.

I shrugged, making out that it didn't hurt one bit, but in fact, it was excruciating! I'd never had such a surge of anger like that, something so violent that made me lash out, that wasn't me at all! Before she told me who had done those dreadful things to her, deep down I knew it was going to be him, I couldn't bring myself to say, or even think about his name. I despised the creature, the disgusting and diabolical things he had put her through, it was nothing that a human, or be it anything or anyone should go through.

Especially not as a 16 year old. I couldn't help the images of him abusing her flickering up into my mind, her helpless, innocent face looking for someone to help her, but no one was there...

I tried with all my might to push the images away, I peered at her tending to my hand, the caring and serene soul that wouldn't hurt a fly, how could anyone ever hurt her?

Through it all, the angering tales she told me about her past, in some way, reminded me of mine. Of...Joseph.

"Aahh!" I winced as the cuts stung like hell as she tried to clean them, I found myself automatically pulling away my hand.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" She giggled.

"What are you giggling at?!" I asked.
"Nothing!" She insisted as she took back my hand.

"Tell me!" I pleaded.

She shook her head mischievously.
I snatched my hand away again, but not with pain, with torment.

"What are you doing? I'm not finished!" She laughed.

I then snatched away the tissue, looking at her with a cheeky grin, "Oh, you're not?" I winked.