Enjoy!

She hates her body. He hugs her and doesn't let go.

Mara silently stared at her reflection and turned. She frowned at her curves. Her stomach was thicker than other girls' and she had no thigh gap. She hated the feeling; the feeling of not being comfortable in her own skin. She looked at herself, or changed her clothes, or looked at another girl, and she thought of herself as…not fat…but heavier than she should be.

Someone on the other side of her bedroom door knocked gently. She grabbed her sweatshirt off her bed and slipped into it, sitting down in front of her open laptop. "Come in," she called in a level voice.

"Hey, Jaffray," Jerome grinned, walking in and closing the door behind him. He ran a hand through his hair and gave him a small smile, but her brown eyes suddenly flitted to his collar. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his collarbones were clearly visible. Involuntarily, her hand flitted to her own collarbones.

Jerome shrugged his blazer off and draped it across the back of her desk chair. Her eyes remained glued to him and she swallowed. How could her boyfriend have a better body than she did?

"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting beside her and leaning against the headboard.

"I just finished my essay for history," she replied.

"Good, then you can take a break." He said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest. He held her close and she relaxed in his arms. She breathed out a slow sigh and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

She hates her eyes. He stares at them like he's never seen anything so beautiful.

Jerome tapped his pencil against the arm of the sofa as Mara played on his phone. She had finished her homework before him and he told her that she could go through his apps or play Angry Birds or do whatever while he was finishing up. He had nothing to hide. He was comfortable with her browsing through his phone's memory.

But Mara had made it onto the Instagram app, and Jerome was following several accounts that had the most beautiful girls she had ever seen. They were thin or beautifully curvy, or blonde or a red head, or blue or green eyed. It made her jealous. Jerome was looking and liking pictures of beautiful women and here she was with dull brown eyes, unlike the girl, Kennedy, that had deep, sparkling green eyes.

Jerome finally realized the answer and wrote it down quickly before he forgot. He smiled and set his books down on the coffee table. He turned to her fully and caught her eyes with his blue ones. And he held her gaze. She put the phone down in her lap and watched him carefully as he stared deeply into her orbs. His eyes sparkled with wonder and love.

And he smiled. She was truly beautiful.

She hates her hair. He plays with it as she falls asleep.

Mara held a lock of her hair in between two of her fingers. She played with the ends of her black hair. The strands had natural brown highlights. It seemed so rough and dull and coarse to her. Why couldn't she have long, blonde hair like Amber? Or glossy curls like Patricia?

Jerome stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She leant into his embrace and forgot about her hair. But Jerome took a strand between his own fingers and played with the ends. He ran his fingers through the dark locks and she felt her eyelids grow heavy.

His strokes never ceased as she closed her eyes and drifted off.

She hates her scars. He kisses them and reassures her everything will be okay.

Mara leant back on the side of her bed, back to the bedroom door. She ran a finger over the scars that were sketched on her skin. She was trying so hard to keep her right hand from reaching out and taking the blade. She had quite a few scars from the past few years. Each told a story. She didn't want to write another.

But what was the difference? When you're a coward and take a blade to yourself, or when you're a coward and just can't bring yourself to pain a blood red picture. You hate yourself, but you're not brave either way.

A few tears dripped from her eyes and her wrist was taken into the gentle hands of Jerome Clarke. The blade had been thrown out the open window in to the pouring rain. He kissed her scars once, twice, and then a third time. He looked up at her.

"Everything is going to be okay." he assured her.

She watched him, and she believed him.

And then he whispered, "I love you no matter what."

She hated her life. He is now giving her a reason to live and love it.

Review?

I don't know, I saw a pic on IG and I liked it. :)

For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. -Ephesians 2:10

-Rachel