In the next week, my back was healed. Well, most of the way.
I ended up with white, puckered scars twisting across my back, and, every once in a while, shocking pain as a reminder of what happened. I suppose that it was better than being dead. Still, I didn't want to wear a swimsuit any time soon.
Kaden loaned me some of his clothes to substitute for my tattered, un-wearable dress. A black cotton T-shirt and jeans that would have fit snugly on Kaden or Sterling, but were baggy and floppy on me. Marcy probably would have had a heart attack from the looks of my ruined dress (which she had given to me for my birthday, no less) and then seen me wearing a guy's clothes. Thinking of her, I realized. She probably was having a heart attack, wondering where I was. I pushed the thought out of my m
