In that case, there wouldn't be so many scars on his body.
Her fingers gently stroked the marks on his neck, his body suddenly trembled, and a low voice whispered in his ear, "Does it hurt?"
Two words, yet they carried a sense of heartache.
She asked him if it hurt, knowing that the only person who could stop his pain was her.
He slowly opened his eyes, his deep eyes fixing on her as he said, "If I say it hurts, what will you do?"
What would she do?
Then, he saw her slowly lower her head, her lips pressed against his neck, kissing softly.
So gentle, so warm.
Gentle kisses, scattered on his neck, on the scars on his face.
She said, "Kyle, if it hurts, just tell me."
She also said, "Kyle, if I could, I would hope to stop any pain you feel."
She also said, "Kyle, you know? If you hurt, I feel pain too."
Her tenderness was so concerned about his pain.
So, he told her, "Mabel, it doesn't hurt anymore." With her there, he no longer felt the pain.
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