Page 62 of The Scars Within
Lightning struck, flooding the entire dorm room with blinding light. Even with my eyes shut tight, all I could see was a burst of white.
That was when my willpower broke.
I sobbed, my voice ragged and desperate, screaming every time thunder rolled against my window. I begged for it to stop, for the storm to just end. But a loud thud rang in the air, closer to me than the storm outside.
Then, suddenly, I was enveloped in warm, strong arms, held against a firm chest with a heartbeat almost as loud as the thunder outside. I didn’t care who it was—I clung to them, wrapping my arms around their neck like I was holding on for dear life. They ran with me, holding me tightly as they kicked open a door.
I started seeing small, white dots behind my eyelids from holding my breath too long. When I finally gasped for air, I was met with the comforting scent of cashmere sandalwood and vanilla. The arms that had cradled me against their chest now tucked me under a thin blanket, snuggling me safely in their lap.
Another strike of lightning hit, and thunder rattled both windows in the room. I squeezed my grip even tighter, a pathetic whimper escapingme. The arms around me tightened in response, holding me closer, wrapping me in their safety.
Instead of a beacon merely signaling me towards shelter, it became my rescue instead.
Opening my eyes was a struggle; they felt swollen shut. I had to blink repeatedly, maybe a thousand times, to moisten them enough to keep them open. Even when I managed to keep them open for more than a few seconds, they still burned.
My temples throbbed, and my throat felt scratchy—all the aftermath of sobbing myself to sleep last night.
The realization jolted me awake, and I propped myself up on my elbows, scanning the room.
I was wrapped in a thin, black quilt. The other side of the double bed remained untouched, with a pillow lying on the floor. A second double bed, also draped in matching black sheets, stood across the room. Between the beds were two end tables, and each bed had a chest at its foot. The room was otherwise sparse, with only some leather boots lined up by the door and a stack of books piled in the corner.
And it smelled like… coffee.
My eyes followed the aromatic scent to find my favorite mug on the end table closest to me. It was hovering an inch above the table with a layer of flames under it.
I propped myself up a bit more, relieved that I had put on a loose shirt and sleeping pants before the storm hit last night. I leaned over to grab my mug, which was filled with hot coffee that was the familiar light brown color that I always made mine.
I foolishly took a sip, ignoring the fact that I had woken up alone in a strange room with a cup of coffee on the table. It could have been poisoned.
But I never would have imagined that poison could taste this delicious. The coffee was a perfect medium roast with sweet cream—my exact recipe. And it was the perfect temperature, thanks to the heat-controlled flames that disappeared once I grabbed the mug.
As I enjoyed my hot mug of joy, I stopped lying to myself. I knew it was Rhodes who carried me in here. He must have heard my screams from down the hall and presumed it was me because we were the only two cadets left in our hall. Everybody else left for the weekend with their earned visitation leave or, I guess, shacked up with another cadet.
To each their own. I did technically wake up in Rhodes’s bed.
I sat there in silence as the coffee warmed my veins. Pondering over everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours. Rhodes has shown me time and time again how impertinently aloof he is. But then also contradicts my perception of him by being the complete opposite when it’s just us two.
Looking at the cards in front of me, I couldn’t help but think about what Shayde had said about his brother. Rhodes shares a room with his twin, the one person he’s supposed to have an unbreakable bond with, yet I’ve never seen him have much to do with him at all. And both brothers had different explanations of why they couldn’t utilize theirmarekem, which means that something within their relationship is extremely wrong.
But then Rhodes shows me a side of him that I feel most people never see. Like when he placed my favorite mug under the coffee machine, even when he wasn’t going to make it in time for work. Or his dry, sarcastic humor that perfectly matches mine. Or how he invited me out to the tavern so I wouldn’t have to stay alone in my dorm. And the way he helped me with Dahlia. The way his breath caught when I teased him about drawing the line and then continued to lead me on the dance floor.
And how he smiled down at me after he purposefully let me crash into him during the line dance.
Not to mention the fact that he literally swooped me up when I was having a mental breakdown during the thunderstorm and kept me safe all night. And left a hot cup of coffee on the nightstand, in my mug, brewed exactly how I liked it.
It’s the little things most would take for granted.
It’s also the little things that are causing my brain to fucking explode.
Rhodes is caring. But he’s also a red flag… though, what baggage do I bring to the party? I come from a nowhere village with a nobody name. My father didn’t think I was important enough to stick around for, and my aunt didn’t exactly push to bring me to Mageia with her. My smart mouth got me a bounty on my head from previous bosses. I spent two years lying in a filthy corner, chained to a wall, and another year feeling just as weak as the shed that confined me.
And I still haven’t told anyone the truth about what happened to me. I haven’t faced my demons head-on. Instead, I give in to my panic attacks. I lie over and over again about the horrendous scar on my left arm.
I put on a strong face, but inside, I feel like I’m crumbling.
I am both the hero and the villain of my story.
I’m constantly fighting to climb out of Rock Bottom, while I’m also the one kicking myself further down.
