They're getting better at this. At least, at the making out thing. At slapping each other on the butt when the boys aren't home just to let each other know, hey hot stuff, I see you. At holding hands in the grocery store parking lot. At loving each other.

So when Jen pulls Judy up to her room one midnight and tosses her on the bed, Judy's stomach is a thousand butterflies. Jen's kisses run from lip to collarbone to breast to stomach and back up again. What a tease, Judy thinks. On her second run down to the stomach, Jen grips the space above Judy's knees tightly and prepares to eat her alive.

"Ouch!" Judy says softly.

Jen pauses. "Ouch? Why ouch? Did I touch something? Are you okay? Was it here? Judy?"

Judy sits up and covers her right knee with the palm of her hand. "Ah… yeah. That. I scraped my knee when I was cleaning up that broken wine glass the other day, and I think the wound reopened a bit."

"Yikes, sorry I was being kind of rough," says Jen. "Do you have a first aid kit somewhere in here?"

"In the medicine cabinet." Judy nods towards the bathroom nervously. Jen gets up, throws a shawl over her shoulder, and returns with a damp paper towel, neosporin and a large band-aid a few moments later. She moves Judy's hand away from the blood and freezes.

Judy's skin here is puzzled over with a number of white and red lines, young and old, criss-crossing over themselves. Jen tries to quickly continue cleaning and wrapping the latest one before Judy notices her shock, but Judy is already staring Jen down intensely to see what will happen next. Judy suddenly feels like throwing up. So stupid. How could I forget about that one?

Jen smoothes over the band-aid and looks up at Judy with a grin. "All set. No more roughhousing for you tonight, young lady."

Judy whines. Jen touches her other leg lovingly. There is fear in Judy's eyes.

"Judy?"

"Hmm?"

"What's up with all the scars?"

Judy purses her lips. She doesn't answer right away.

"I mean, you don't have to explain anything to me you don't want to," Jen adds. "I just… don't like seeing you hurt."

Judy's eyes get watery. She knows she owes Jen an answer.

"Uh… so… I guess when I was younger I used to cut myself sometimes? It was really stupid, I mean, I could've gotten an infection or something."

Jen wraps her hand around Judy's, which only makes Judy want to cry even more.

"How did it start?" Jen prompts. She runs a thumb over Judy's fingers absentmindedly.

"Well I guess when I was 12, I got my mom in trouble when I testified against her in court, about her drug problem." Jen flinches at the word "12."

"Then I was bounced around the foster care system for a while after that. But it all started that night, that she got arrested because of what I said about her. I got a razor. It's a lot easier with a razor. And I just went crazy with it. It was, like, scary."

Jen draws circles with her hand on Judy's back. Judy takes a deep breath.

"I stopped when I was 18, just cold turkey, because it seemed like a childish thing to do. And I was really good about it for a long time. Until, ya know, I killed a man with my car."

Jen nods and lightly runs her thumb over the band-aid above Judy's knee. "And this?"

"Oh, that I just got from being a total klutz around broken wine glasses."

"Judy."

"Okay, fine," Judy says. Jen is really hard to lie to. "It's from that night."

Without asking, Jen knows exactly which night Judy is referring to.

"Oh honey," Jen says, pulling Judy into her arms. They embrace for a long time, Jen rocking a bit back and forth as Judy gathers herself. When they finally pull apart, Judy wipes at her eyes. "You think maybe one day we'll be able to do this without crying?"

Jen laughs. "Oh Judy, I sure fuckin' hope so."