(Beca's POV)

I stood in the doorway of the dorm, staring back at the ginger who I looked upon just hours ago. I smiled when I saw her because something about her was special, if only I knew what it was.

"How was your first day?" The enthusiastic ginger asked.

"Uh, it was good I guess," I stated with a shrug. Then this awkward silence came over us, until the redhead spoke once again.

"What's your story?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Where are you from? What brought you here? What's your major?"

"I'm majoring in music, minoring in English. I'm here to get a fresh start, and I'm from Georgia. My dad actually works on campus, teaching comparative literature, professor Benjamin Mitchell."

"That's pretty cool!" The redhead always spoke with so much enthusiasm. Something about her makes me feel different, but I can't quite explain it.

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Two months have passed by and as they did me and Chloe began to grow closer to one another. One day after class, Chloe and I decided to watch a movie on my laptop. My sleeve had gotten rolled up accidentally and Chloe saw my scars.

"What are those from?" She asked in a soft, but concerned tone.

I pulled my sleeve back down, but I was at a loss for words. I just stared back at her dumbfounded. Then out of nowhere I started bawling. Something about her made me feel vulnerable. She pulled me in a hug, despite my urge to resist, and soothed me.

"It's okay, Beca. Your safe." She lightly rubbed my back while repeating this.

As soon as I was calm enough, I explained my scars to the startled ginger, "When I was younger I was verbally and physically abused by my dad. One thing my dad always hated about me was the fact that I was gay. He would tell me I was a disappointment and how much of a burden I was was to him, then he would hit me to the point where my skin would turn numb. So when I was 13 I began cutting my myself."

I couldn't look Chloe in the eyes. From the small glance I did take though she looked like she was in shock. I wasn't sure what she was going to say and it scared the hell out of me. The tension began to build in the room. It stayed this way for about ten minutes until she finally spoke again.

"Beca, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry, but I think I know a way to make you feel better." I was confused by her statement, until she leaned over and kissed me.