Silent Scars

CHAPTER 69

DOMAIN HASTINGS

The door clicked shut behind Luca and Kendric.

We were alone now.

Just her.

Me.

And the silence between us.

My hands stayed jammed in my pockets, holding onto the notepad.

Her notepad.

The one I found in the car the day I rushed her to the hospital, lying open on the floor, as if even it had given up trying to hold her together.

The first thing I saw was scrawled across the page:

"Telling them about Hannah won't change anything. They'll just add it to the list of reasons to hate me."

"Maybe it's my fault anyway. Maybe if I was better, she wouldn't have hurt me. I should stay quiet."

That was just the beginning.

I shouldn't have read further.

But I did.

Every page peeled back a layer of her pain I hadn't seen or hadn't wanted to see.

Words like wounds.

"It hurts when they look at me like I'm lying. Like I'm disgusting."

"I wasn't being dramatic when I didn't eat. I just couldn't swallow. It felt like knives."

"He said I'm just pretending. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am just... useless."

"I don't think they would care if I disappeared. It would be easier for everyone."

"I'm so tired of being scared of everything. Tired of waking up and remembering I'm still here."

I didn't know something inside me could still break.

But it did. Right then.

Because it wasn't just about the people who hurt her.

It wasn't just the ones at school who made her bleed.

It was me.

I was the reason she thought she didn't belong.

The temper I showed, the coldness in my voice, the way I looked at her like she was a problem instead of a person.

I did that.

I exhaled slowly, like maybe if I pushed the breath out hard enough, I could push the guilt out too.

I pulled the notebook from my hoodie pocket and set it down on the bed, right next to her hand.

Gentle.

Careful.

Like it was made of glass.

"You might need it."

I muttered. My voice was rough, hoarse.

Ariana glanced at it, then up at me.

I didn't know what I was expecting.

Fear, maybe. Distance. Walls.

But she just looked at me, really looked at me and somehow that hurt worse.

Her gaze wasn't empty.

It wasn't cold.

It was soft.

Forgiving.

Like she didn't even realize how much I'd wrecked her.

I ran a hand down my face, my throat burning.