Page 3 of The Scars Within
“H–” I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, the words catching in my mouth.
What is the point of fighting anymore?
The horses grew nearer. I closed my eyes, feeling the vibrations of their approach through the ground.
“Hit–” I choked out, my voice a raspy plea.
Life is a fight that I don’t want to win.
A horn started to sound off in the distance, signaling the racers to stop.
“Hit me,” I screamed, my voice breaking.
I won’t be missed.
“Hit me!” I screamed again, louder this time, the words tearing from my throat with desperate force.
I surrender.
“HIT ME!”
Chapter 1
One year later…
Mageia War College will either make me– or break me.
And since there’s nothing left to break, that leaves me with one option.
The past year has been a blur. After officials halted the race—saving me from being trampled—I was taken to a women’s shelter. They insisted on keeping me there until I was deemed strong enough to take care of myself.
It was a fresh start that I never asked for.
I had nothing but time to relive the nightmare of my Rock Bottom. But with each passing day, the weight of the trauma felt just a little lighter– like maybe, just maybe, I could move on and have a life worth living.I wasn’t shackled anymore.
No one came to visit me in the shelter—not that I expected anyone to.
But, what Ididn’texpect was the anonymous package.
An envelope had been left for me, and inside it was the last thing I expected to receive—my father’s elemental documentation. The last I remembered, that paperwork was locked away in the family trunk backhome. So how it ended up there, in my hands, was a mystery I couldn’t stop thinking about.
It was enough to ignite a spark of motivation in me—the first I’d felt in years. I spent the next few months chasing one goal: get strong enough, steady enough, to earn my release from the shelter and finally go home to find answers.
There was no note. No explanation. No reason why someone thought that documentation was important enough to leave for me. But it felt intentional. Deliberate.
I thought I had it all figured out—return home, uncover the truth, maybe start over.
But what was waiting for me changedeverything.
I had the clothes on my back, my father’s documentation in my hands–
And my home had been burned to ash.
I had fallen to my knees at the sight of it. Something shifted the moment my knees hit the dirt. It felt like a dam inside me had cracked wide open, flooding my mind with everything I’d buried—grief, rage, confusion... and something else I didn’t have a name for.
That was when I heard it.
A voice—my own—echoed in my mind, quiet but undeniable. Words I’ve whispered to myself every day since.
