“Damn you, Marcy, I don’t know how to live without you anymore.”
Marcy smiles so sadly then, and the ghost of her lips presses against Sasha’s forehead, a memory of warmth. “You’ll have to learn,” She says, and then she’s gone once again.
(https://t.co/NkFSIAJgRS)
Once Marcy was back with the makeup remover, she dabbed it onto a small cotton pad and rubbed it across the scar gently. She knew what it was like for her, the way it apparently stung from time to time, and she didn't wanna be the one to set that off.
(https://t.co/XpNPvOeMZs)