Scars Between Us | A short story

After the Smoke Clears

A high-pitched ringing tore through Vi's ears, sharp and relentless. She squinted against the discomfort, her head pounding in tandem with the shrill sound. The world felt distant and wrong, like a warped memory she couldn't quite piece together. Gritting her teeth, she tried to sit up, only for her body to betray her. Pain shot through her side, sharp and unforgiving, forcing a strangled gasp from her lips. She realized, with a sickening twist of her stomach, that her arm was pinned beneath a slab of broken concrete.

She clenched her fists, but her fingers barely moved. Panic began to rise in her chest, wild and suffocating, as she pulled at her trapped limb, grunting through the agony. It was no use; the rubble wouldn't budge. She sank back against the debris, her breath ragged, staring blankly at the fractured sky above her.

And then it hit her—everything. The memories surged forward like a tide she couldn't hold back. The explosion, the screams, and the loud roar that tore through the air. Vander's face, twisted beyond recognition, now a beast consumed by fury. Warwick. His name clawed at her mind. He had attacked her and her sister with reckless, unrelenting rage. She let out a raw scream, the sound echoing through the ruins around her. Every muscle in her body strained as she tried, yet again, to push herself up. But no matter how much she fought, her strength failed her, and she collapsed back into the floor with a shuddering gasp. Then there was Jinx—standing there, eyes wide and wild, caught in the storm of violence that she had unleashed.

Her throat tightened as the flashes came faster. Jinx had fallen, broken, and bleeding before her eyes. Vi had screamed, reaching for her sister, her hands trembling with desperation. But she couldn't reach her—no matter how hard she tried, no matter how loudly she called out. Her sister's lifeless eyes burned into her memory. The guilt. The rage. The unbearable weight of loss.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting streaks through the grime on her face. She sobbed, her chest heaving with the force of it. She wanted to scream, to rage against the cruel injustice of it all. Instead, she felt herself slipping into the depths of despair, her energy drained, her will crumbling beneath the avalanche of grief.

Her gaze drifted to the edge of the floor she was trapped on. It would be so easy to let go. To stop fighting. The thought wrapped around her like a cold embrace, tempting her to sink into the void. She could still see Jinx's face, frozen in that last moment, and the ache in her chest grew unbearable. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe she didn't deserve to claw her way out of this.

But just as she peered over the edge of that dark thought—another image slammed into her. Midday ocean eyes. Steady hands. A voice, calm and determined, cutting through the chaos.

Vi's breath hitched, her heart catching in her chest. Caitlyn. The woman who had stood by her, believed in her, fought for her when no one else would. She could almost feel the warmth of Caitlyn's hand on hers and hear her voice reminding her that she wasn't alone.

A spark flickered to life deep within Vi's chest. Weak, fragile—but there. The image of Caitlyn held her steady, like a lifeline in the storm. Vi clenched her teeth and glared at the rubble pinning her arm. She wasn't done yet. Not for herself, not for Jinx, and not for Caitlyn.

She dug her heels into the ground, straining against the weight of the concrete, her muscles screaming in protest. Pain seared through her body, but she didn't care. She roared against it, the sound tearing from her throat like an animal as she fought to free herself. For Caitlyn. For her sister. For the chance to make something out of the wreckage her life had become.

Finally, with one last desperate push, the rubble shifted, freeing her arm. Vi collapsed back, gasping for air, her body trembling with exhaustion. But she was alive. Broken, battered—but alive.