It started when I was young, four maybe. My life at home wasn't always so perfect, even now it's not. My mom had issues, she still does, and so did her partners. One minute I was what kept her alive, the next I was everything wrong with her life. She couldn't be happy while I was around. As I got older it got worse. I could take more hits, grew more resilient. I let it effect my school life. They could tell. They didn't care. They hated me even more than she did.

Too this day I am still not sure of the exact moment it happened, when even the slightest movement towards me filled my body with terror. Even the slightest nudge. I tried getting over it, forcing myself to hug family and friends, be normal. It made me sick, made me cry. It still does.

It scares me. That I will never get over it, that I'll never be normal, that I can never be close to someone because the mere thought of them touching me terrifies me. I can't stand it.

Her back pressed firmly against the cold wall, hands gripped tightly around her wrists. He leaned his head forward, his breath cascading down her neck sending chills low her spine. His teeth grazed the side of her ear gently, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Please.." She whispered, biting down on her bottom lip anxiously.

He smiled, closing the distance between their bodies, flesh against flesh. He lowered one hand down and cupped her chin, taking one more look into those beautiful brown eyes before pressing his lips to hers.