Page 23 of Shadows Within
I can’t help but wonder if she’s actually fine or if that’s just what she tells everyone. I stare at her text on the screen a bit longer, I fucking hate it.Why won’t she admit that she cares?I don’t know how to ask her again without sounding like I give a damn.
I lock the phone screen. Fine doesn’t meanokay. Fine doesn’t meansafe.
I don’t trust myself to text her back. Instead, I turn off the headlights and readjust in my seat. I stay parked under the yellow streetlight’s glow and stare at her window, hoping to get a glimpse of her.
Bloody Knuckles
Scarlett
I host a seminar in the library today. There’s only six of us, so we booked a secluded room in the back. Usually, these meetings have more attendees, but as we get closer to exams, teacher’s assistants host smaller sessions to get more involved with their groups. I’ve been a TA for different classes the last two semesters, and I love it. This term, I got to choose my group, and thankfully there are no duds— as in, the students whose parents have lots of money, but they don’t really want to be here. Lately, that feels like most, but this group is eager to learn. They also ask great questions and that’s always a plus.
“Okay, well if there are no more questions, we should wrap it up. We’re about twenty minutes past our time.” I look up at the clock. 10:20 p.m. I was at the gym earlier and had two of my own classes plus a study session before this. Busy days are what I look forward to most—there’s less time to think about everything else.
“Thanks Scarlett, see you next week,” Rachel, one of my peers, says on her way out. I place my laptop in its bag and grab my things. On late nights, I usually park in the garage across campus. It’s not fully enclosed, but it’s covered. Most importantly, I can access the garage without walking outside at night.
I text Dad as I make my way across campus and let him know that I’m leaving shortly. I open the message from Callum. He never texted back after I said I was fine. I push my phone back into the outside pocket of my bag.Why did he text me in thefirst place?That thought has crossed my mind a couple of times this week.
The halls remain lit. I only pass a few people as I walk through. Most students don’t stay on campus late, usually it’s just TA’s, teachers, and the odd keener.
I make it to the first floor of the parking garage and take two flights of stairs up to my car. I can hear the rain from outside as I approach the third floor.
The garage is quiet, almost too quiet. As I cross the lot, a sudden loudthudbreaks the silence.
A sharpbangand a cracking sound follow, coming from behind the pillars. I stop. My heart races. The noises repeat.
I stay still and debate if I should turn and run back for the stairwell or to my car, but something inside me remains curious. I know I shouldn’t, but I walk toward the noises.
Callum’s arms are up above his head, his palms pressing against the wall. His forehead rests against the concrete block. Blood runs down his right arm. His hands are scratched and red.
His shoulders are hunched, and his breathing is ragged. He looks like he’s been in a fight, yet there’s no one around. I assume he’s fighting himself.
He doesn’t hear me as I walk toward him.
“Callum?”
His body stiffens, like he doesn’t want anyone to see him.
“Didn’t know anyone was here.” He removes his forehead from the cool stone but doesn’t look to me.
I don’t want to push him. Seeing him like this feels like I’ve invaded a private moment that he wanted to conceal. Still, I can’t take my eyes off him.
“You should go,” his deep voice cracks.
I’ve seen this kind of rage—I live with it. I don’t pity it, I recognize it.
“I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”
He pushes off the wall, his face stoic and expressionless, like he’s been wrestling a demon inside his head. His body looks tense and coiled. Finally, his eyes meet mine.
“You ever feel like it’s all just poison inside your chest and the only way to get it out is to bleed?”
His dark eyes captivate me, staring into my soul. He’s not being poetic—he’s telling the truth.
“More than I’d like to admit.”
Behind his rugged exterior, I want him to show me who he is. His gaze softens, breaking our eye contact as he looks into the distance. I glance up and notice some broken light bulbs.
“I thought I was the only one who parked up here.” He disturbs the silence.
