Bloodstained Reflections

chapter 3

The next morning, Reid couldn't shake the heaviness in his chest. The guilt from the night before still clung to him, but he knew he had to face Skye today. He had to make things right. It was the only way to stop himself from sinking deeper into the shame that threatened to consume him.
When he spotted her in the hallway, she was walking with her head down, her usual shy demeanor amplified by something else—embarrassment. Skye moved quickly, avoiding his gaze, her steps hurried as if she were trying to escape the memory of what had happened between them.
Reid's heart clenched. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her everything was okay, that he didn't hold any of it against her. But how could he explain the confusion swirling inside him? He didn't even fully understand it himself. Still, he couldn't let her feel this way. It wasn't her fault.
"Skye," he called softly, walking after her. She tensed but didn't stop. Her pace quickened, and for a second, Reid thought she might just run away. But he couldn't let her slip away like that—not after everything. "Skye, wait!"
She hesitated at the sound of his voice, her steps faltering. Slowly, she turned around, her gaze downcast, clearly uncomfortable.
"I... I'm sorry," she mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. "About yesterday. I didn't mean to—"
Reid didn't let her finish. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She stiffened, not expecting the sudden embrace, but he held her gently, his heart pounding in his chest.
"It's alright," he whispered, his voice soft but steady. "It's not your fault. None of it is."
Skye stood there, frozen for a moment, as if she wasn't sure how to respond. Then, slowly, she relaxed into his arms. Her head dipped slightly against his chest, and she made a small, strangled sound. Reid felt her trembling, and before he realized it, she was crying—quiet, almost imperceptible sobs. But she didn't even seem to understand why.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, her breathing shaky. "I... I don't know why I'm crying," she whispered, her voice breaking. She wasn't used to this—wasn't used to someone holding her like this, comforting her without expecting anything in return. The tears weren't from sadness, but from some deeper emotion she couldn't quite grasp.
Reid held her tighter, his own eyes stinging with emotion he couldn't quite name. "It's okay, Skye. I'm here."
They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's warmth, the hallway around them slowly becoming irrelevant. When she finally pulled back, her face was flushed, and she quickly wiped away the remaining tears with the back of her hand.
Reid gave her a small, reassuring smile. He didn't want to make things worse by talking about what had happened yesterday, by dredging up all the confusion and guilt they both felt. Instead, he wanted to take her mind off of it—take his own mind off of it, too.
"Hey," he said gently, "how about we get out of here for a bit?"
Skye blinked, her eyes still red from crying. "What do you mean?"
"I was thinking... maybe we could go to the amusement park," Reid suggested, trying to sound casual. "You know, ride a roller coaster or something. Just... forget about everything for a little while."
For a moment, Skye looked unsure, as if the idea of having fun seemed foreign to her. But then, something in her eyes softened, and a small, genuine smile began to tug at the corners of her lips. "Really?"
"Yeah," Reid said, his smile growing. "I think it'd be fun. What do you think?"
Skye's smile widened, her earlier embarrassment melting away. "I've never been to an amusement park before," she admitted softly, her eyes lighting up in a way Reid hadn't seen before. "I'd love to go."
Reid felt a sense of relief wash over him at seeing her smile, a real one this time. "Then it's settled. Let's go have some fun."
As they walked out of the school together, the air between them felt lighter, the heavy tension from before slowly lifting. For the first time in a while, Reid felt like he was doing something right. And for Skye, it was a small glimpse of something normal, something that felt like freedom—if only for a little while.
As Reid and Skye made their way through the school's main corridor, the tension that had been building between them all morning seemed to fade into a comfortable silence. Skye, for the first time in a long while, felt lighter. She still didn't fully understand the confusing emotions swirling in her chest, but Reid's presence had a calming effect on her.
Just as they reached the entrance, a familiar voice called out. "Hey, Skye!"
Reid and Skye both turned, and standing there was one of Skye's friends, Amy—a cheerful, outgoing girl with an inquisitive streak that often made others a little uncomfortable. She walked over, her eyes flitting between Reid and Skye with an amused expression.
"Are you guys... close or something?" Amy asked, her tone playful but tinged with curiosity. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to tease but also fishing for details.
Skye immediately tensed up, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. "Uh... no, I mean, we're just... friends," she stammered, avoiding Amy's probing gaze.
Reid shifted uncomfortably beside her, his hands awkwardly finding their way into his pockets. He glanced at Skye, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah, just... friends," he echoed, though the word felt strange on his tongue.
Amy grinned, clearly picking up on the tension between them. "Uh-huh," she said with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You two seem... different today, that's all. Didn't know you guys were hanging out."
Skye fidgeted with the strap of her bag, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make the situation worse. "We're... not, really. Just... talking."
Amy gave them both a suspicious look, but before she could press further, her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at it, her expression shifting slightly. "Oh, right! Skye, you remember we're all going to the café after school, right? The girls are already talking about it. You're coming, aren't you?"
Skye hesitated, the lightness she had felt moments ago evaporating. She had forgotten about the plans her friends had made—an afternoon of coffee, gossip, and forced smiles that she wasn't sure she could handle right now. Her gaze briefly flickered toward Reid, as if searching for a reason to say no, but the guilt of disappointing her friends tugged at her.
"I... yeah," Skye replied reluctantly, offering a half-hearted smile. "I guess I'll come."
Amy gave a satisfied nod, completely unaware of the subtle tension in Skye's voice. "Great! See you after school then." She flashed them both a quick wave before heading off down the hall, leaving Reid and Skye standing awkwardly in the aftermath of her interruption.
Skye let out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. She glanced at Reid, the earlier excitement about their amusement park plan dimming a little. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice laced with disappointment. "I forgot about the café thing."
Reid gave her a reassuring smile, though a part of him felt oddly deflated by the interruption. "It's alright. We can go another time."
Skye nodded, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if the weight of her obligations was pulling her back into the world she had just briefly escaped from.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Skye made her way to the café with her friends. The autumn air was crisp, leaves swirling in the wind as the group laughed and chatted, their voices blending with the chatter of other students spilling out onto the streets. Skye walked in step with Amy, though her mind kept drifting back to Reid, to their earlier conversation, and the way he had hugged her when she was feeling so lost.
The café was cozy, filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of conversations. Skye took a seat by the window with Amy and the rest of the girls, trying to push aside the discomfort that had been gnawing at her ever since their earlier conversation.
Amy, seated across from Skye, leaned in, her eyes glinting with something sharp, something that didn't quite match her usual friendly demeanor. "You know, Skye," she began, twirling a strand of her own sleek, straight hair around her finger, "you'd look so much cuter if you cut your hair short."
Skye blinked, caught off guard by the comment. She instinctively reached up to touch her wavy, shoulder-length hair, feeling a sudden rush of self-consciousness. She liked her hair the way it was, but Amy's words made her question it. "You... you think so?" she asked hesitantly.
"Oh, totally," Amy said, her voice dripping with false enthusiasm. "Your hair's, like, kind of wild, you know? It's so wavy—it just looks messy most of the time. A shorter cut would make you look more... put together." She smiled, but there was something almost smug in the way she said it, as if she enjoyed the discomfort flickering in Skye's expression.
Skye shifted in her seat, her fingers curling tighter around a strand of her hair. She didn't know why Amy's words stung so much, but they did. It wasn't the first time Amy had made comments like this—little digs disguised as helpful suggestions. Still, Skye tried to smile, not wanting to upset the balance of the group. "Maybe I'll think about it."
Amy smirked, leaning back in her chair as if she'd won some small victory. "You'd totally look better. Trust me."
The other girls chimed in with their own opinions, most of them agreeing with Amy, but their words faded into the background as Skye stared out the window, feeling a hollow ache in her chest. It wasn't just the comment about her hair that bothered her—it was the way Amy always seemed to undermine her, always finding small ways to make her feel less than. Yet Skye couldn't bring herself to say anything. Amy was supposed to be her best friend, after all.
But was she?
Skye's mind drifted to Reid again. In his presence, she felt different—less judged, less like she had to constantly measure up to someone else's expectations. When he had hugged her earlier, it hadn't felt like pity. It had felt... safe. Warm. Real. She wondered if he thought her hair was too messy, too wavy, or if he saw her for more than that.
"Earth to Skye," Amy's voice snapped her back to the present, and she realized everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to respond to something.
"Huh? Sorry, what?" Skye asked, blinking in confusion.
"We were just saying," Amy said with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes, "maybe you should ask that guy you were with earlier—Reid, right?—what he thinks about your hair. Seems like you two are pretty close."
The remark was casual, but there was a sharp edge to it, one that wasn't lost on Skye. She felt her face heat up, the memory of Reid's hug flashing in her mind, and she quickly shook her head. "We're not... It's not like that," she said quietly, though her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.
Amy raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Sure it's not."
The other girls giggled, and Skye's heart sank. She had never felt more out of place than she did in that moment. She gave a half-hearted smile, hoping it would be enough to end the conversation, but the knot in her stomach only tightened. Amy's words echoed in her mind, and a part of her wondered if she really had any idea what friendship was supposed to feel like.
The rest of the time at the café passed in a blur. Skye barely spoke, nodding along to the conversation but not really paying attention. She sipped her coffee slowly, her mind elsewhere. When the outing finally ended,
The café grew a bit noisier as Amy's boyfriend and a couple of his friends strolled in. Their laughter and easy banter changed the dynamic immediately, and Amy lit up as she waved them over. Ethan, her boyfriend, leaned down to give her a quick hug, but his eyes drifted, almost naturally, toward Skye as he sat opposite her.
Skye stiffened under his gaze, hoping the conversation would stay focused elsewhere, but the subtle attention Ethan kept throwing her way made her feel uncomfortable. She caught Amy's glance, sensing the tension rising between her friend and herself.
"So, Skye," Ethan said, a grin tugging at his lips, "what's up? Haven't seen you around much lately."
Skye hesitated, not really sure how to answer. She could feel Amy's eyes on her, and it made the situation feel even more precarious. "Just... school stuff," Skye muttered, hoping to keep the conversation as neutral as possible.
Ethan didn't seem to get the hint. He leaned in slightly, his tone playful. "You should hang out with us more. We could use your quiet charm, right?"
Skye gave a weak smile, not sure how to respond, but Amy's expression darkened. She sat straighter, and though she was smiling, her eyes betrayed her jealousy. "Oh, I'm sure Skye's been busy," she said, her voice tight. "Besides, she's probably more interested in studying or... other things."
Ethan chuckled, but there was a tension building that everyone at the table could feel. He shot another glance at Skye, clearly enjoying how flustered she was becoming. Skye, on the other hand, could feel the heat creeping up her neck. She fidgeted with her coffee cup, trying not to meet Ethan's gaze.
Amy's irritation seemed to grow with every second of attention Ethan gave to Skye. She reached for her cup, and in one swift, careless motion, she "accidentally" tipped it. The coffee splashed directly onto Skye's lap and shirt, staining the fabric instantly.
"Oh my god, Skye! I'm so sorry!" Amy exclaimed, though the apology came out more dramatic than genuine. She fumbled with a napkin, pressing it into Skye's lap with a force that only made the situation worse. "I didn't mean to!"
Skye gasped, startled and embarrassed as the warmth of the spilled coffee soaked through her clothes. "It's okay," she managed, her voice shaky, though her hands were trembling as she tried to wipe away the mess.
Amy's friends glanced at each other awkwardly, while Ethan leaned back, looking a little too amused by the whole thing. "Wow, Amy, really smooth," he said, but there was no sympathy in his voice.
Amy shot him a look before turning back to Skye, her face full of mock concern. "I feel terrible," she said, though her eyes flickered with something else—satisfaction, maybe. "You should go clean up in the bathroom. I'll totally pay for your dry cleaning or something."
Skye's heart was pounding. She could feel all eyes on her, the laughter from earlier replaced by a quiet tension. She stood up quickly, grabbing a napkin as she tried to compose herself. "It's fine, really," she said, though her voice was barely above a whisper. Without waiting for another comment from Amy or the others, she made a beeline for the bathroom, her cheeks burning with humiliation.
As she walked away, she heard Amy's voice behind her, too low for anyone else but her to hear. "You should be more careful, Skye. You wouldn't want people to think you're trying too hard."
The words stung, but Skye said nothing. She kept walking, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.
Skye didn't return to the café after the incident. Instead, she slipped out the door, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding. She couldn't face them—couldn't stand the idea of sitting there, drenched in coffee, with Amy's smug apology ringing in her ears. As she stepped onto the street, the chilly autumn air hit her damp shirt, making the fabric cling even more to her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to cover the spot where the coffee had spilled, soaking through to reveal the soft pink of her undergarment.
Her pace quickened, but no matter how fast she walked, she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone on the street was staring at her. A group of girls passed by, giggling, and Skye's paranoia made her wonder if they were laughing at her. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the pavement as her breath came in shallow, anxious gasps.
She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. The humiliation of the moment—Ethan's lingering gaze on her chest, the way his eyes had lit up when he noticed the wet, sheer fabric—made her skin crawl. It wasn't just the embarrassment; it was the way it had felt like she was suddenly exposed, vulnerable, as if her body had been laid bare for everyone to see. She clutched her arms tighter around herself, wishing she could disappear.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. She knew it was Amy or one of the other girls, probably wondering why she hadn't come back from the restroom yet. Skye's stomach twisted at the thought. They must've been laughing about it, about how clumsy she was, how ridiculous she looked. The phone buzzed again, the vibrations relentless, but she couldn't bring herself to check the messages. She didn't want to see the false concern or, worse, Amy's fake pity.
The streetlights began to flicker on as dusk settled over the city, and Skye's walk slowed. Her thoughts raced, replaying the moment when the coffee had splashed onto her shirt. The shock on her face, the way Ethan had smirked—like he had enjoyed seeing her squirm. And Amy's eyes—Skye had seen that look before. The cold satisfaction, as if her so-called best friend had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
A tear slipped down Skye's cheek before she could stop it. She hated how small she felt. How every little thing seemed to make her question herself—her worth, her appearance, everything. She wiped the tear away quickly, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed.
As she neared her house, her phone buzzed once more, this time with a string of notifications. Skye finally pulled it out, seeing the missed calls and texts from Amy, the other girls, even Ethan. *Where are you?* *Are you okay?* *Did you fall in?*
The messages blurred in front of her eyes, her vision clouded with unshed tears. She shoved the phone back into her pocket, too drained to respond, too overwhelmed to even care. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and forget this day had ever happened.
But even as she reached her front door, the image of Ethan's smirk and Amy's sharp eyes stayed with her, clinging to her like the wet fabric against her skin.
As Skye's brother returned home, he noticed the kitchen was eerily quiet. No dinner had been prepared, and the smell of cooking was absent. He headed upstairs and knocked on Skye's door. "Skye? You not making dinner tonight?"
There was no response. He knocked again, this time more forcefully. "Skye?"
Finally, Skye's muffled voice came through. "No."
Her brother's irritation was evident, but there was a touch of concern as well. "Want me to order some pizza or something?"
Skye's voice was barely a whisper. "No, I'm not hungry."
Her brother sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. "Alright, whatever. Don't come looking for my pizza if you change your mind."
He walked away, his footsteps receding down the hallway. Skye remained in her room, feeling a mix of isolation and fatigue. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily on her, and the quiet of her room was both a refuge and a reminder of her loneliness.
Skye lay on her bed, the weight of the day pressing down on her. The shame and embarrassment she felt seemed to suffocate her, making it hard to think of anything other than the humiliation she had experienced. Her mind was a jumbled mess of self-doubt and insecurity, and the cool, dim light of her room offered little solace.
Eventually, she swung her legs off the bed and sat on the edge, staring at the floor. The damp, sticky feeling of the coffee-soaked fabric against her skin was unbearable. She needed a way to escape from the emotional turmoil, if only for a little while.
With a sigh, Skye rose and walked to the bathroom, each step feeling heavy and deliberate. The bathroom was small and simply decorated, with muted colors and minimalistic fixtures. She turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to a comforting warmth, and watched as steam began to fill the space.
The sight of her reflection in the mirror caught her eye. The coffee stain on her shirt had left a conspicuous dark blotch, and the wet fabric clung to her skin in a way that only heightened her sense of vulnerability. She peeled off her clothes, feeling an odd mixture of relief and exposure as the fabric slipped away.
The shower was a brief escape from the chaos of her thoughts. The hot water cascaded over her, and she let it wash away the remnants of the day's events. Her tears mixed with the water, falling silently down her face. She tried to focus on the sensation of the water, hoping it would somehow cleanse her of the emotional residue clinging to her.
As she stood there, her thoughts drifted back to Reid. His kindness, the way he had hugged her and offered to take her to the amusement park—it had been a rare bright spot in an otherwise gloomy day. She wished she could hold onto that warmth, that small reminder of how someone cared about her, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
After some time, she turned off the shower, feeling a bit cleaner but still emotionally drained. She dried herself off and slipped into comfortable pajamas, feeling slightly more relaxed but still heavy with the weight of her thoughts.
Returning to her room, she avoided looking at her phone for a while. The messages and missed calls from her friends were a constant reminder of the day's events, and she wasn't ready to face them yet. Instead, she crawled back onto her bed and pulled the covers over herself, seeking comfort in their familiarity.
The night passed in a blur of restless sleep and fleeting dreams. Skye stayed in her room, the darkness providing a sense of security but also amplifying her loneliness. Her mind continued to replay the events of the day, but exhaustion eventually overcame her, and she drifted into an uneasy slumber.
The next morning, the first light of day began to filter through her curtains. The soft glow was a gentle nudge from the world outside, coaxing her to wake. She stirred slowly, reluctant to leave the safety of her bed but aware that she had to face the day.
With a groggy sense of determination, Skye reached for her phone. The device buzzed with notifications, and she hesitated before opening the screen. Among the messages from her friends, one stood out—a message from Reid.
"Hey Skye, just checking in. I was thinking about our trip to the amusement park. I know yesterday was rough, but I hope you're feeling a bit better today. Maybe we can catch up this weekend?"
Reading Reid's message, Skye felt a flicker of hope. The warmth of his words was a welcome contrast to the emotional coldness she had been feeling. It was a reminder that there were people who cared about her, who wanted to see her happy. The thought of the amusement park and the chance to spend time with someone who genuinely cared about her was a small but meaningful distraction from her troubles.
A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she felt a bit of the heaviness lift from her chest. It wasn't a cure for everything, but it was a step in the right direction. She took a deep breath, feeling the first traces of optimism she had experienced since the previous day.