(Edited)

There was a silent agreement between us as if he knew that I didn't want to go home, so he asked Eddie to drop us off at his house. I could not get the kiss out of my head, and I didn't want to, but this meant something was going to have to change between us. I had to open up to him, reveal everything I had been holding back; but I still had time to build up the courage to tell him my life story.

Who knew, maybe I was overthinking everything, and the kiss was a spur of the moment type of thing, and he regrets it now, but the look on his face said something different. I wanted to know what this meant, was he over what Elizabeth did to him or was he using me to forget her.

I was surely going to get ill because of this. The headache I had right now proved it. My wet clothes were not helping my case, either. Even though Eddie came to our rescue, the damage was done. But honestly, I wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

"Can I give you some of my clothes and I'll throw yours in the dryer?" Michael asked, rummaging through the only part of his closet that was not tidy. "I would offer you some of May-C's, but I'm sure they won't fit!" He joked. I chuckled and looked at the mess.

He caught me looking at it and smiled sheepishly. "I didn't have time this morning, so I threw it in."

He turned around and continued with the clothes, to hide the blush that I clearly didn't miss. He was nervous; it was so adorable. He pulled out a black shirt and gray sweatpants giving it to me, without thinking twice about it, I turned around and removed my wet shirt. It was starting to cling to me, and it was honestly bothersome. But as soon as the gasp left Michael's mouth, I froze and cursed myself for being so damn careless. Now I knew for a fact, Michael wasn't going to stop until he got some answers.

'So much for having time to get some courage,' Lilly commented drily.

I took a deep breath and prepared myself to turn around and confront the situation, but the tingles on my skin stopped me from moving. Michael placed his hand firmly on my hip, and the other one was touching the scars on my back. I clung to the shirt in my hands with fear but didn't move an inch to stop him. His thumb traced the whip lashes on my left shoulder blade, and I shuddered in repulsiveness. The memory of that day going on replay in my mind, and I had to pull everything in me not to push him away and cry in the corner. The more I wished for him to move, the more he traced my scars like he wanted to read my story, too know everything that happened to me. Hesitant but carefully, he turned me around so I would face him. I didn't want to see the pity in his eyes, so I stared intensely at the carpet. My body shivered, Michaels clothes were still wet.

"Princess," Michael whispered the beautiful endearment I loved so much. His arms were wrapped tightly around my midsection, preventing my escape, but to be truthfully honest, I didn't want to move because I felt safe when I was with him.

He pulled my chin upwards, and I had no other choice but to look him in the eyes. It was not what I expected: there was no pity or disgust in them. His jaded -green eyes were vibrant with pride, but from his rigid posture, I could see that he was trying extremely hard to restrain himself from showing his anger. If I didn't know Michael, I would have thought that he was angry at me, but since I knew him better than I knew myself, I could say with certainty that it was directed at whoever caused me pain.

"I know I promised to give you time and to wait until you were ready, but under the circumstances, I need to know. I deserve the truth," he whispered.

He was right, and even though I didn't want to tell him, I had to. The problem was that I was a coward. I feared his reaction and the fact that he might stir up trouble. I didn't like what was happening to me: the fact that people who were supposed to love me were beating me; didn't sit well with me. That didnt mean that I wanted something to mess up the routine. I had one year left, and then I could move away from them and start my life, but if someone mentioned anything and I got moved again, they would send me into the unknown. I didnt want to take that risk.

"I just-"

Michael interrupted. "I know it's hard for you, and I'll give you time to tell me. We'll sit here the entire night, silently looking at each other until you're ready." He assured me with a small smile. I sighed and silently agreed to tell him everything.

It was now or never, and if I wanted a future with him, I had to tell him. Michael moved away from me, leaving a few feet of space between us. I wish he didn't move away, because I loved being in his arms, but it was probably a good thing because I couldn't think straight with him close to me.

The sudden blush that appeared on Michael's face confused me. His eyes quickly roamed over my body and stopped on the birthmark I had that looked like an Autumn leaf. As soon as he snapped out of his daze and realized he was basically staring at my breasts, he looked away, stopping at something behind me. And only when I felt the cold breeze that was coming in from the opened window, did I realize that I was naked from the pants up. I quickly pulled his shirt over my head and blushed even more than he did. There was some awkward tension in the air, making me smile. After I put on his shirt, Michael pushed me towards the bathroom to put on a pair of dry pants.

"No more striping in front of me," he mumbled, not meaning for me to hear it. I smiled at the flustered look he had on his face.

He gave me his smallest pare of sweatpants to wear. I put it on, and it immediately fell off. I had to roll it a few times so it would stay put. I walked out of the bathroom and stood against the threshold. Michael sat on his bed with his head in his hands, already dressed in dry clothes, he looked worried and frustrated. I cleared my throat, and his head shot up, looking in my direction. His eyes roamed over my body, giving me goosebumps. He stopped on my face, and a smirk appeared on his mouth: a smirk I both hated and loved.

"You look good in my clothes." He admitted.

I played along, appreciating the light conversation. "I feel good in your clothes." I curled my fingers into the bottom of the shirt and looked up at him, smiling softly. "Can I keep it?" I asked, referring to the shirt.

Michael moved his position and sat with his back against the headboard. "That happens to be my favourite shirt." He said smugly. I pouted looking down at the shirt. It was black with a strange art design on it, but that's not why I wanted it. It was big, cuddly, and it smelled just like him. "But, I can't have a favourite shirt that looks better on you than it does on me, now can I?" He said, putting a smile on my face. "Now stop stalling and get up here!" He raised his eyebrows.

"I wasn't stalling," I mumbled and sat on the edge of the bed crisscross, making sure to leave space between Michael and me. Michael grabbed my knees and pulled me a bit closer towards him.

"Not to close because I know you can't think straight when I'm near you." He said winking.

"Shut up, Michael," I mumbled, looking down at my hands, my hair falling over my face hiding the blush.

There was somewhat utter silence between us. This was it. This was the last time that my secrets - which I've kept a long time hidden - were going to be my own to bear. From this point on, I could add Michael to the list of secret keepers. Something that I was surely going to regret from this point on. But deep inside, my heart was telling me that I was doing the right thing by trusting him.

We sat opposite each other, not uttering a single word. It was about time that I lightened some of the weight I've been carrying around all by myself. I knew that with this act, Michael would realize that I honestly trusted him, and it would bring us even closer. With that thought in mind, I took a deep breath and told him.

"I don't know where I came from or who I really am. I was around three or four -not entirely sure, the details are a bit vague - when they found in front of Lorelei's Orphanage." I avoided eye contact at all-cause and played with the hem of his shirt.

Michael was listening intently without interrupting, so I continued.

"No one knew where I came from or who my family was. They only knew my name because of the necklace I was wearing." I explained, my hand reached for my neck, and instead of feeling the familiar locket with my name on it, I felt my new necklace and frowned. "They put me in the system and so my lovely childhood began. I was in twenty-four different homes until I came here. All of them were more or less the same. They mistreated me and only used me as cash in." I chuckled humorlessly.

Michaels face turned angry, but he stayed silent.

"I was very closed off, I knew what my life consisted of and where I stood. I didn't get close to anyone because luck was never on my side, and I would always end up losing them. I had to grow up fast, so I didn't have much of a childhood. Do you know the whole Barbie toys and everything? I never had it. But my life changed around the age of five." I quickly looked up, and our eyes met, I looked away even quicker.

I could see it in his eyes that he was hurt; he was taking my pain and making it his own. He embraced it and took it with open arms. He hadn't even moved an inch since I started talking. I could see it in his posture that he wanted to hold me and comfort me, but he didn't, and I appreciated it. I would break down if he did that.

"The family that I was living with at the time had another little boy living there. He was one year old, and my five-year-old self found him fascinating." A smile slipped on my face at the memory of one-year-old Max. "He was so lively and precious. He lit up the entire room with just one smile. You remind me so much of him, with the dimples and green eyes." I chuckled, a smile was forming on Michaels face.

"Is he..." Michael whispered hesitantly.

"No, he's alive, but I lost him the day I came here."

"Do you miss him?"

"Every waking moment." I sighed and moved my position, so I was now lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. "I don't have a son, Michael. Well, not a biological anyway."

Michael looked at me, confused. "But Ryan said-"

"I know what he said, and he lied. We have a son, but it's more complicated than that." I explained. "Max -the little boy -was mistreated by those people that were supposed to look after him. He was a ray of sun when there was a thunderstorm, and I wanted to protect him. So, I took it upon myself and raised him, the best way a five your old could mind you." I chuckled. "At first, I couldn't do much but bath, feed and put him to sleep. I played with him, kept him busy, and I made sure that he never knew of the evil around him. As we grew up, I realized that those people were neglecting him. He got sick one night, and they didn't even care, they just left him like that." I clenched my fists, the memory replaying over in my head. "Luckily, I was nine at the time, and I knew what to do. I bought him medicine with the money I found lying around, and he got all better. That day was a wakeup call for me. I had grown to love Max so much, and he didn't make it easy. His very first word was mama, and that frightened me beyond belief, but he had been calling me that ever since. I even told him that I wasn't his mother when he was old enough to understand." I chuckled reminiscing. "Such a stubborn child, he wouldn't have it. Anyway, after that day I started doing small jobs here and there to get some money for Max. Walking dogs, cleaning the neighbour's house and so on." I stated proudly because what nine-year-old could be responsible for a child.

"So, you and Ryan never..." He asked, to clarify. I smiled at the jealous streak that was evident in his voice.

"No, we never slept together." He sighed, relieved, and I chuckled. "I wasnt ready for that yet."

"OK, just to make sure I'm following. Max isn't you real son, but you consider him as such?"

"Yes!"

"Then where does Ryan fit into the picture?"

"Well, we met when I was around eleven or so. He was fourteen and an older guy. He found me remarkably interesting, and one thing led to another. I was head over heels for him - Now I honestly don't know why- and it seemed he felt the same. The closer we got, the more I trusted him, so I told him about Max."

He was a great person back then, and I don't know why he changed. I thought I was in love with him.

"Ryan was an incredibly good person, to me anyway and took it upon himself to help us. Max got close to him as well, and Ryan became his father figure. I found him immensely helpful. He helped me get more money for Max and get somewhat a better job." I looked sideways and found Michael staring at me.

"We were together for four years. He was honestly our rock. All that I am today, I ow it to him. He showed me how to survive, how to be a strong-willed person and how to come out winning. And I'll always be grateful to him." I said honestly. "But now he can rot in hell!" I spit, bitterly and sat back up.

Michael sat upright and looked at me, his eyes very calculating. "What changed?"

"He just did something that I don't think I'll ever forgive him for," I explained.

"You're being vague."

"No, I'm being cautious," I said. "I trust you, Michael and I hope you realize that now, but somethings are better left unsaid," I said with certainty in my voice. He sighed heavily, giving up, for now.

"How about your scars?"

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from trembling. "I thought what I had back in Australia was bad; I didn't like what I had to do. They were bad things, I ended up hurt and doing things that I warned Max to never do. But the pain I got when I arrived here was nothing compared to that. It was a hundred times worse."

For the next passing hour, I sat in front of Michael, telling him all about the scars on my body. How it happened, who did it and why I kept it from them. To say that he was delighted to finally know the truth, would be the understatement of the year. He was piss of and severely angry.

Michael wanted to storm over there and beat them to death, kill them with his bare hands. He threatened to tell the police and get them thrown in jail. He wanted to do so many things but could do none but stay put. I gave him my reasons for not telling anyone, I told him what would happen, and he understood. He didn't like it one bit, but at least he understood.

And like so many other times before, I lied when we agreed. I said that they hadn't hurt me in over a few months -when the last time they did was only a few days ago- but he seemed to buy it, and I agreed to tell him when they hurt me again. It satisfied him enough not to go after them yet. I told him about the basement and how many times I've spent down there. All my emotions, my thoughts and my almost suicide. That part he didn't enjoy as much. I got scolded and ended up in his arms being crushed to death. He made me promise that I would never try to hurt myself again, and he promised me that he would check up on me regularly. And I knew that was a promise he wasn't going to break.

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