Who We Are (A Zodiac Story)

POV: Taurus (Part 1)

I storm inside my room, the door shutting behind me with a resounding thud that seems to reverberate through the very walls. My eyes immediately land on the sleeping form of Capricorn, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of slumber.

But it is not Capricorn's presence that draws my gaze - as my attention is singularly focused on the mirror across the room, its reflective surface seeming to beckon me. Lifting the dark blue sweater I wore, I begin to examine my toned, scarred body, fingers tracing the raised, puckered flesh of the numerous permanent marks that mar my skin.

I narrow my focus down to three scars that have etched themselves most indelibly into my psyche. The first, a thin, jagged line that runs the length of my left pectoral muscle. The second, a thick, angry red line just below my ribcage, the edges still slightly inflamed, as if the wound itself has never truly healed.

But it is the third scar that haunts me the most - a thick, purplish-black line that cuts across my lower abdomen, a jagged reminder of a pain so visceral, so all-consuming, that I can scarcely bear to dwell upon it. I can almost imagine the scars coming to life, each one writhing and wriggling like living, breathing creatures, taunting me with their very existence.

The very thought sends a shiver of revulsion down my spine, and I find myself caught up in the macabre dance of my own tortured imagination, until suddenly, I feel the weight of someone else's gaze upon me. Turning my head towards the door, my eyes widen in shock as they lock with those of Cancer, standing there in stunned silence.

I never even heard her come in. I don't even know why she's here, but the tension in the air is thick enough to choke on as we stare at one another, each of us frozen in a moment of raw, unguarded vulnerability.

"...Oh my st-,"

Before Cancer can utter another word, I swiftly reach out and pull her into the tight confines of my embrace, my hand clamping firmly over her soft, parted lips. I steal a quick, furtive glance back at Capricorn, relieved to see that he remains undisturbed by the sudden commotion.

Shutting the door behind us with a decisive click, I can feel Cancer's heavy, panicked breaths puffing against the palm of my hand. In the desperation of my attempt to keep her from exposing what she has witnessed, it only just now occurs to me the intimate, almost possessive way our bodies are pressed flush against one another, her curves molding to the hard planes of my form.

Reluctantly, I remove my hand from her mouth as I gaze down at her. "Please," I whisper, my voice rough with a barely contained anguish, "Don't tell anyone."

"You're hurt..." Cancer reminds me in a whisper, her eyes flashing with concern. "I have to tell someone."

"No!" I hiss, stepping closer to her, my hands gripping her arms as I try to convey the gravity of the situation. "I'm fine, seriously."

"That doesn't look fine, Taur," she counters, her eyes narrowing as she asks the question that strikes fear deep into the core of my being. "Who did this?"

Cancer extends her hand, her fingers reaching toward me. I then realized that for some odd reason, she was about to touch the purplish-black scar that stood out.  In a sudden move, I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing it tightly within my own to prevent her from making that fateful connection.

"You're hurting me," she glares, her features twisting in discomfort as she snatches her hand away from my vice-like grip.

"Don't tell," I repeat, my voice tinged with a desperate, almost pleading edge as I watch her back away from me, her frame pressed firmly against the surface of the door behind her.

Her eyes flick down to the exposed expanse of my bare torso once more, "I have to," she says, the words barely audible as she looks at me apologetically.