Healing

4. bruises

The worst part about getting a new uniform was breaking in new boots.

I could deal with the all-white fabric that was a pain to maintain clean, the new, longer mask that made me look more threatening than someone you could ask help for or the outdated uniform that made me look like a 1890s child bride, puffed sleeves and all.

No. The one thing I could not deal with was the boots .

The new, shiny, blindingly white boots that just seemed to exist to bring me pain, with their heavy soles and painfully uncomfortable design.

Maybe it would've been something I could've better dealt with months ago when a new mission was something to be excited about and the golden guard was just my mildly annoying co-worker.

I would've just sucked up the discomfort and worn my new, flashy uniform with pride.

But now, any faith I had in the empire seemed to be a distant memory and every second I spent in the castle seemed to be filled with anxiety, paranoia, and the same question:

Why am I even here?

I could just leave.

No one would be able to tell.

I would go back to Hexside, maybe. I'd draw on the edge of my notebooks during class and sit with Emira and Edric at lunch, laughing at their antics and rolling my eyes fondly at their pranks. People would ask me about the emperor's coven, and I'd say that I found my calling elsewhere.

I could dodge questions about Lilith artfully and live a normal, healthy teenage experience.

But there was one thing holding me back:

Hunter.

I know he didn't mean to. I didn't talk about my doubts— I didn't talk about my fears when I was with him. I suppose there is no way he could've even known about them. But there is no way I'm able to leave him behind.

Lilith once told me that this was my biggest weakness— my heart and loyalty.

I can't leave.

I can't leave and live as a normal teenager when I've seen how hard they work him.

I can't let all my worries revolve around assignments and exams when I know that he doesn't have the luxury to be more than a child soldier.

I cared too much to be able to withstand the guilt of leaving him behind.

I knew how it was to be abandoned.

I knew how it felt to deeply, profoundly trust someone only for them to leave you and this is not something I ever want to inflict in him.

Not on someone who already has so much to worry about and no one to rely on.

So I deal with my issues quietly. I wear comfortable, thick socks and don't voice the mundane annoyance of breaking in new shoes.

I stare at the offending item and wish that my biggest problem were white boots.

(As I walked into the hallways, ready to start my shift hours before the sun had risen, I wondered if the idea of leaving itself was just wishful thinking.)

—

I haven't seen Hunter in a couple of days, which would've been okay if not for the fact that everything has been worrying me lately.

It's always a bad sign when things like these happen— When things are too quiet, too easy.

He hasn't had an injury as bad as the bone fracture, but it didn't mean that he didn't often show up in my bedroom at the dead of the night full of injuries.