Chapter Seventeen

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Monday 27th August, 2040.
Dalton Academy- Section 1, Quarter 1.
3:01pm.
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"Newton." I whisper.

"Hmmm?" He mumbles half asleep. He stirs slightly but doesn't open his eyes.

"I think school is over."

He sits up and rubs his sleepy eyes. We've been seated in the janitor's closet for hours. After I had finally managed to calm down and stop crying, Newton sat beside me and we just stayed in silence till he fell asleep. He looked so peaceful while he slept with his mouth slightly open and little snores escaping his lips.

Newton gets to his feet and a part of me hates that we have to leave. A part of me hates that this safe protective bubble I shared with him has to be popped. He stretches his hand out to me, wanting to help me up to my feet. I place my hand in his and freeze in shock at the sight of my bare hands. I snatch my hand away and place it in my lap, palm facing upwards. My face feels hot all of a sudden. I completely forgot my gloves aren't here.

"I'm sorry about that." Newton says, his face as red as a tomato. I don't know if he's apologizing for my wounds or if he's apologizing about what happened but I don't ask.

I stand to my feet and he loops his arm through mine instead. I am caught unawares but I don't say anything against it. He opens the door and ushers us out. The hallways are slightly crowded as students walk passed us. A couple people turn back to look at me and I drop my gaze to the floor. I want the ground to open up and just swallow me.

Newton whispers an "it's okay" and I nod. Even though I don't believe anything is okay. My life is ruined. Utterly ruined but I can't give it away. I cannot show just how much I have been affected today. We come to a sudden halt when a pair of sneakers stand a few inches from mine. I force my face up and Lukah stands in front of me. Oh God.
I want to run away. I want to disappear.

None of us says anything to each other and then he lifts his hand and I notice he's holding my bag, U-card and gloves. Newton carefully unwinds his arm from mine and when I glance at him, he gives me a small smile then walks away. Leaving me alone with Lukah. I want to tell him to come back. I want to hold onto his sweater vest and keep him firmly in place beside me. But I don't. Instead, I watch as he disappears into the crowd.

"I hate that that happened to you." Lukah begins but I can't meet his eyes. He waits for a response but I am silent. "Saylor..." I would be a fool to think Lukah would want me after everything that happened.

"Thanks for getting my things." I reach out to collect my bag but the sight of my destroyed hands makes me retract them once again. Lukah takes my hand and holds it in his firmly. I snap my eyes up to meet his as his fingers graze mine. What is he doing? He examines my hands. His eyes running over each and every scar. I try pulling my hand away from his grip but he doesn't budge.

"Lukah—"

"I want to protect you Saylor." He says with a seriousness that almost leaves me winded. My eyes fall to my unhealed wounds. My hideous hands— the skeletons that I have tried to keep hidden away from my own self. They are the products of my own destructive nature. If I can't stop myself from this how will he be able to? How can he protect me from myself?

"You can't protect me." I respond.

"I can. I'm not going to allow this to happen to you. Whoever did this to you—"

"I did this to myself." I interject. This is the first time I have ever admitted to anyone that I harm myself. When Knockout found out, it wasn't because I told him. It only took him a matter of time to notice my hands got progressively worse even when I spent months indoors. It only took him weeks to realize that the kind of wounds that seemed to suddenly appear on my hands could no longer be accounted for with my usual excuses of; 'I got this bruise after I fell.' 'I mishandled the knife while I was cutting up some tomatoes for a quick snack because I didn't want to bother Fiona'. I tried different ways to conceal my growing wounds. I always wore long sleeves and dragged them all the way to my knuckles to hide my scars from his sight.

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