Page 176 of Cerulean Truth
“I can’t believe you’d say that!” he snapped. “You’re trusting Julian over me? After everything we’ve been through? After heleftus at Alliance?”
“He left us to get help!” I yelled, frustrated to have the same fight over and over again.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” James punched one of the heavy bags. Hard.
A huge lump started to form in my throat, prohibiting me to speak much further.
“Fine. You want to know why my tattoo is on my right forearm instead of my left?” he snarled angrily, his breathing irregular and hard.
“I’ll fucking show you why.” His cerulean haze came on so fast I almost missed it. It swirled around his arm and slowly edged out his tattoo.
I gasped at the sight of his bare forearm, completely covered in what were clearly burn scars. The skin was a patchwork of discoloration, with areas so much lighter or darker than the rest, creating a stark contrast that drew my eyes. The texture was disturbingly irregular, thick and leathery in some places, while raised and bumpy in others.
“What in gods‘ names happened to you?” I breathed, pushing back the tears welling up.
He swirled back his haze, once again covering up his scars with his Skindo-tattoo.
“Let’s just say there was a reason I wasn’t exactly focused on my emotional pain during my years in foster care,” James hissed.
My heart broke. So did my voice. “I am so sorry.”
He shrugged. “Don’t pity me. It made me who I am today. Which is First Offensive and future Leader." He paused. "And someone you should trust, above all others.”
I swallowed. After such a revelation, he was still on the whole Julian thing?
“Why do we keep fighting about this?” I whispered, trying to dissolve the tension between us.
James clenched his fists. “Because you don’t trust my judgement on this.”
“And you don’t trust mine!” I retorted.
James took a deep breath and started packing up his stuff.
“What, you’re just going to leave in the middle of our fight?” I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“No Emma, I’m leaving to make sure I don’t say anything I’ll regret. Let’s take a few to cool off. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
He turned around and left the room without another word.
I didn’t see or hear from him again until Thursday.
It was early Thursday-morning,and I found myself bracing for another class—or what felt like another impending screaming match with James.
Our fights about Julian had left the question on the existence of our “situationship” in the air. Despite the constant irritation James provoked, I couldn't ignore the fact that I was still fallinghead over heels in love with him. A part of me, the larger part of me, yearned for him to simply acknowledge our hopefully mutual feelings for each other.
I realized his past had left him more scarred than I could ever imagine, and I didn’t mean that in the physical sense. Trust-issues were clearly ingrained in his character and there was but one way I’d ever tear down his walls and it wouldn’t be by trusting someone else over him.
Intending to avoid yet another fight, I decided that morning to keep my mouth shut and focus on my training. Each time James attempted conversation, I responded with a mere grunt, diverting my attention entirely to the physical exertion. It felt strangely out of character for me, but I was too exhausted to engage in a verbal duel once again.
James, always attuned to my nuances, sensed the shift in my behavior.
Unable to resist the urge to unravel my silence, he probed, "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," I mumbled, the word escaping like a reluctant prisoner.
"You're acting strange," he observed, concern lacing his words.
"Okay." I sighed, not willing to take the bait.
