like lilies and dirt, and it permeated her. He was out there somewhere, living, breathing and laughing. She was going to change that. She would put an end to his laughing…his breathing. From the first night she went home with Jamie until his “death,” she’d been completely, utterly, and stupidly in love with the guy who eventually tried to kill her. All she could think about was returning the favor. Every time she looked in the mirror or took a step, she thought of Jamie. Every time a doctor or nurse congratulated her on her progress, she counted it as one step closer to finding Jamie. She had several constant reminders of him, which made her even more pissed at him. Whether it was the tattoo on her back with a new bullet hole that was a big fat joke, the scars on her chests, or her life in shambles once again, she just couldn’t get rid of the ghost of Jamie.
She was getting really fucking tired of plastering on a fake smile for everyone else.
To say Stella was shocked when the bandages were finally removed from her chest would’ve been an understatement. Angry red scars mirroring a spider web covered her chest, the skin above her ribcage, and down her abdomen from the surgeries that were necessary to save her organs. Dr. Houston told her the redness would fade, eventually.
Tears rolled down her face as she stood in the hospital bathroom looking at her naked self. She turned this way and that, looking at herself from different angles and trying desperately to see her back. They didn’t show her the scars on her back. Stella had never thought of herself as a vain person, but she had no words to describe her feelings as she stared at her own image. Holy shit .
George knocked on the door and pushed it open when she didn’t respond.
“Love,” he said, looking into her eyes in the mirror. Closing the gap between them, he moved behind her and held her gently. “It’s okay. Alright?” He ran a hand over her hair.
Stella faced him and yelled. “You think this is alright?! This,” she motioned to her torso with both hands, “will NEVER be alright again.” Her cries were on the verge of sobs. “YOU WANT THIS?!” she yelled through her tears. “WHY?! I don’t!” Stella tried not to break down in front of anyone; she tried to be strong. She looked back at the mirror and met George’s eyes. “No one will want to look at me,” she said softly.
George took her hands in his and pulled her into him, burying his face in her neck. She sighed audibly and he released one of her hands to reach behind him and lock the door. Then he pulled off his own shirt so there was nothing separating their skin. Stella’s chest heaved with silent sobs, tears coursing down her cheeks and onto his chest. George leaned down and began kissing the scars on the right side of her chest.
“I could look at you all day, Love.” He continued until he kissed every one of her scars and she stopped crying. He moved behind her and kissed the healed bullet hole in her back as well. “This is a fucking expensive new tattoo, Love, but it’s pretty badass.” He wrapped his arms around her. “The bullet exited through the remains of the heart in your tattoo. You want to see?”
She nodded; she couldn’t speak. He turned her around so that she could look at the tattoo in the bathroom mirror.
After Jamie “passed away,” Stella had gotten a tattoo on her left upper back to symbolize her lack of a heart. The tattoo was a view inside her body, bones poking out all the way through to where her heart would be. Instead of seeing a heart, Richard, the tattoo artist, had drawn what looked like tattered remains of a heart. It was beautifully grotesque. Stella took in the puffy red skin in the middle of Richard’s masterpiece. It looked like Jamie had taken aim and shot her in what remained of her heart. He had perfect aim .
George kissed her forehead. “Totally badass. Richard’s going to shit a brick.”
Stella stifled a giggle. At