We, who hurt each other so terribly, Will sit here licking each other's wounds. We damaged goods will each seek the other out in comfort. If you are to die tomorrow, I'm fine with my life ending then as well. But if you want to live for me for one more day, I'll go on living with you today as well. And thus begin a tale of kindred bound by their scars. Soaked in red and written in black, a story of blood. One of which I will never speak. Our very own, precious as it is, story of scars. And I have no intention of reciting to anyone.