A/N: Ok, so I just wanted to say that this is quickly becoming my most reviewed story yet! Thanks to everyone who has read this, and reviewed it and told their mothers and brothers and sisters and cousins and everybody! So, here is another one from Katie's POV. Reminder: Me=Kendall, Katie=Ami.

Warning: Abuse….that's just kinda given, angsty fluffy goodness

Disclaimer: I swear, I'm never saying this again so listen up: I DON NOT OWN, NOR WILL I EVER OWN BIG TIME RUSH. *glares at screen* Never. Writing. This. Again.


It's so hard seeing him like this.

Seeing his body so broken is terrifying.

I guess I've gotten so use to seeing him be so strong that when he shatters it takes me by surprise.

Seeing his blood on the floor as he fights for me kills me.

Seeing the pain in his eyes every time he gets hit makes me want to hold him the way he would hold me when I had nightmares.

Just seeing him, lying there, still and bruised makes me wish we could run away..

I want Kendall to take me away from here, away from that psychopath who hates us.

I want him to hold me against his strong chest and tell me everything will be alright.

I wish we left when we had the chance to.

He always stood up for me, no matter what.

He would stand in front of me, body tense and ready to spring.

I knew that I would be safe with him nearby.

But now that's over.

She finally snapped and now we all face the scars of what happened.

That night was the worst of it.

She went at him with a knife and sliced his back open.

I tried to warn him.

I tried to make him run away, but nothing could stop him.

He fell on the ground, blood gushing from the large, jagged cut on his right shoulder.

I called 911 and they were there in minutes.

That bitch was taken away as I rode to the ER with my brother.

He never cried the entire time.

Not during the ride.

Not in the room.

Not when they put large surgical staples in his shoulder.

I never left his side that night.

I was up, holding his hand through it all, and not once did anyone try to make me leave.

The first sound Kendall made in hours was a choked out sob.

I looked in his emerald green eyes and saw the tears forming as I lightly petted his soft blonde hair.

And for the first time, he cried.

I sat there, silently comforting him as he rode out the painful cries.

I wish now I had done something, anything, for him that night.

But I sat there, silently thanking my stars that he survived.

We went home the next morning with our dad

The bitch was still in jail.

Things were quiet.

Until she came back.

Kendall and I avoided her as much as we could while his shoulder healed.

But she always found us and screamed.

She never got physical, in case one of us called the police again.

But there was always yelling.

And then Kendall's staples came out and he was pronounced healed.

And it was as if someone flipped a switch because in a matter of days, Kendall was black and blue again.

And we called the police again, and she was put away for thirty days.

We never speak of it anymore.

She went to extensive therapy and was put on meds.

She got better, and now she lives with the five of us kids in LA.

It's funny how even when the wounds have healed, the scars can still haunt you.

And they always will.

Every time Kendall takes his shirt off, there it is.

A long, jagged, pale line down his right shoulder blade.

People always ask, and he always lies, afraid of what the truth will bring.

But we all know.

We know and we stay silent.

Because wounds will heal, scars will not.


A/N: There you have it. Love you all so much! Review this please!