Page 84 of Beautiful Scars

His face when I told him I hated him more than Garrett...

God, I’d wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain I felt lying in that hospital bed day after day, hoping he'd walk through the door. Praying he'd come explain why he left me there broken and bleeding.

But seeing him break like that—it didn't feel like I thought it would. There was no satisfaction in it.

I pull my knees to my chest and press my forehead against them, trying to steady my breathing. The rage that fueled me downstairs is draining away, leaving me hollow. Empty. Exhausted.

I tuck my legs into Z's shirt and wrap my arms tighter around myself, grateful for the comfort of it even as guilt gnaws at me. Not for what I said, but for how it must have looked to Levi. Seeing me like this. In Z's shirt, acting like this is my home or something.

Not that I owe him anything.

Seven years. Seven years I've carried this weight, these questions, this pain. And now it's just... out there. Everyone knows. Chase. Wolf. Ty. Jayce. The others I haven't even met yet. Complete strangers know my darkest moments, my deepest shame.

But oddly, I feel lighter. Like finally speaking the truth, finally confronting Levi, loosened something that's been coiled tight inside me since that night.

I drag myself up off the floor on shaky legs and move to sit on the edge of the bed. The morning sun streams through the window, catching dust motes dancing in the air.

How will I ever walk out of this room and face anyone again?

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. She looks lost. Scared.

The sounds of voices drift up from downstairs—muffled but loud. Very loud. I should feel anxious about what they're saying since there's no way they aren't about me. I'm sure everything that I said is getting discussed and dissected.

My fingers trace absently over the tattoo on my chest and the scars underneath. Physical proof of survival. At least there's that. Lucky me.

I lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The trembling in my hands is starting to ease. The numbness spreading through me feels almost peaceful after the storm of emotions. It feels a lot like trying to breathe underwater.

The double locks Z installed on the door make me feel secure enough to close my eyes. To let the exhaustion of the morning's confrontation wash over me. I don't sleep—I'm too wired. I let myself drift instead, away from the chaos downstairs.

For now, in this room, in this moment, I just... am.

Eventually, I do drift off into an uneasy sleep, but voices outside my door drag me awake. The hushed but heated tones make my eyes snap open.

"You need to leave her alone, Levi." Z's voice, firm and protective.

"Move Z. Get out of my way. I have to talk to her." Levi's desperation bleeds through the door. "I have to explain—"

"Explain what? Why you acted like such an asshole this morning? Or how you didn't mean—"

"You don't understand!"

"No, you don't understand. She's been through hell the past couple of days. She's finally starting to feel safe here. I won't let you destroy that."

My chest tightens at Z's words. The bed creaks as I sit up, every muscle tensed.

"That's not your call to make," Levi growls. "You don't know what we had—"

"Had being the operative word. She trusted you, and you broke it."

"I was a kid! I panicked—"

"She was a kid too! A kid who needed you, who counted on you, who believed what you told her."

Their voices rise slightly before dropping again into a low hiss.

"She's not yours, Zane."

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

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