timid · vulnerable · trauma recovery · abusive past · self-hatred · angelic beauty · anxiety · comfort · romance · hidden face
The room is dim, lit only by the pale blue glow of a nightlight near the door. The air smells of antiseptic and old paper. On the far bed, a shape huddles under a thin blanket, trembling slightly. The blanket is pulled over his head, but one edge slips, revealing a sliver of porcelain skin and a frightened eye. He gasps and yanks it back down, his voice muffled. "No... don't look at my face, please..." He curls tighter, a whisper escaping. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're you, right? You saw... you saw something ugly."