.
Jazz had scars, too. She kept them hidden.
Physical: The dent where Danny had stabbed her (only a little bit) with the broken end of a broom while trying to fend off a mutant turkey. An ectoburn, slightly viridescent, from before her parents realized superheating ectoplasm made it unsafe for humans as well as ghosts. A long thin white mark from a splinter she'd picked up when Spectra tried to kill her and didn't notice until it was already infected. A smattering of other, smaller scrapes from ghost hunting.
Mental: Every night Danny cried, and their parents didn't hear. The way everyone laughed when she tried to ask Missy Stevens out on a date in fifth grade. Not having friends. Anger. The sound of vacuums. Trying so hard but still failing. Being wrong. Watching the things she loved fall apart again and again and again. Panic at so many mundane things. Not knowing what mundane was. Fear of leaving home, but not for herself. Seeing—
There were too many.
Too many. Too deep.
She felt like she was drowning in them.