Fisher flinched a little as James traced over the marks on his arms. He wasn't proud of them, and no one had ever touched them before who wasn't medically examining him. He couldn't imagine someone wanting to touch them. But then again, he was still tracing his fingers over James' scars, letting the bumps in the skin meet his fingertips.
"Who was it?" he asked softly, not sure if James would tell him. He guessed his father, because that seemed to be the most likely person. But there were so many scars, how could it have gone on without someone noticing? Sure, the wealthy always hid their dirty laundry, still...