Ink and Iron

Unraveling

Sitting on the edge of my bed, my shirt discarded, I feel exposed, vulnerable. The scars on my skin, usually hidden, now seem like glaring, shameful marks, a constant reminder of a past I've tried so hard to forget. My stomach twists in knots, a sickening blend of fear, regret, and self-loathing swirling within me.

I never wanted anyone to see these scars. Pascoe and Lily were the only ones I ever trusted with this part of me, the only ones who knew the depth of my pain. And now, Marco knows too. The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine.

A gentle knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, "Come in."

The door creaks open, and Lily steps in. Her eyes are soft, filled with concern as she approaches me.

"Hey, Chris," she says quietly, sitting beside me on the bed. "I saw Marco leave your room. Are you okay?"

I try to smile, but it falters. "I don't know, Lily," I confess, my voice trembling. "It's just... so much."

Lily nods, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze mine. "You don't have to go through this alone, Chris," she assures me. "I'm here for you. We all are."

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to speak, but I manage to choke out, "Thank you, Lily. You have no idea how much that means to me."

She squeezes my hand again, her touch grounding me in the midst of my turmoil. "You don't have to go to dinner or the party tonight," she says softly. "Take the time you need."

"I think I'll stay here," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

She smiles gently. "I'll bring you some tea. A hot shower might help too."

I nod, grateful for her understanding. "Yeah, that sounds good."

As she leaves, I gather the strength to move. In the bathroom, I avoid the mirror, the thought of seeing my own reflection too much to bear. I turn on the water, letting it run hot, almost scalding, and step into the shower. The water beats down on me, and I let it wash over me, hoping it can cleanse the ache inside. For a brief moment, the world outside fades, and I find a small measure of peace.

But the moment passes, and I step out, the cool air hitting my damp skin. I dress quickly. Back in my room, Lily is waiting, a cup of tea in one hand, a plate of my favorite cookies in the other. Her smile is soft, filled with the kind of understanding that only comes from knowing someone deeply.

"Thanks, Lily," I say, taking the cup from her, the warmth seeping into my hands, easing some of the tension.

"I know it's been rough," she says, sitting beside me. "But you'll get through this."

I nod, but the words feel hollow. I want to believe her. I sip the tea, the warmth spreading through me.

Marco

Leaving Chris's room feels like walking away from the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath me crumbling with every step. I barely make it to my own room before collapsing against the door, my legs giving out as I slide to the floor. My hands shake uncontrollably, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I try to block out the image seared into my mind.

How could I have been so blind, so thoughtless? The sight of those scars is a brutal reminder of my failures, of the hurt I've inflicted on someone I care about more than anything. Tears blur my vision as I bury my face in my hands, the weight of my actions crushing me.

I can't contain the rage boiling inside me. With a scream that rips from my throat, I lash out, my fists connecting with the wall, the pain in my knuckles a small distraction from the torment inside. The room erupts in chaos as I tear through it, furniture splintering under my fists, glass shattering around me.