SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Fuck ups

Johnny's Point of View

I should have knocked.
But I didn't.
And now I couldn't unsee what I'd seen.

I had walked into my room expecting nothing more than to grab a hoodie, instead, I walked into something I wasn't fucking prepared for.

Maeve.
Standing there, back turned, reaching for her shirt.
And her back
Jesus Christ.

Because what I was looking at didn't make sense.

Scars.
So many fucking scars.

Deep, jagged, twisting across her back.
And the bruises.
My stomach dropped and just one thought made it's way across my mind.
I fucked up.

Big, dark marks bloomed across her ribs and lower back, angry and fresh.
I recognized bruises like that.
Because I'd had them before.

I knew what it meant when the colour was that deep, when the shape was that deliberate.

Someone did that to her.
Someone hurt her.

My hands curled into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms.
A sharp, burning kind of rage shot through me, so fast and so strong that I felt my pulse pound in my ears.

But she hadn't noticed.
Not yet.
Not until she froze.

Then she yanked her shirt over her head like she was desperate to cover herself up.

And that's when it hit me.
She wasn't just hiding the bruises.
She was hiding the scars.

The realization nearly knocked the air out of my lungs.

She thought I was disgusted by her.
By her scars.
By the way her skin looked.

She didn't even have to say it – I could see it in the way her shoulders curled inward, in the way her hands trembled slightly when she pulled the fabric down over her ribs.

I barely had time to process that before she turned.

"Has no one ever taught you how to knock?"

I blinked, still trying to snap my brain back into place.

"This is my room." My own voice came out rough, unsteady.

I could barely think straight.

She didn't even hesitate. "Edel left my clothes here. I thought she'd told you."

"She didn't."

"Clearly."

My brain was still reeling, still scrambling to make sense of what I'd seen, when she grabbed a brush from my dresser like nothing had happened.

I opened my mouth, still trying to find words that made sense.

But only one came out.

"Maeve."

She didn't even look at me.

"What?"

I sucked in a breath, forcing my jaw to loosen.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

I watched it land.

But she still didn't look at me.

"I told you I got in a crash."

"Those are the fucking scars." Her voice was sharper now. "So, unless you have nothing better to do than look at me like I'm some sort of circus freak, leave."

I flinched.

Not because of what she said.
But because she meant it.
She really thought that's what I was thinking.
She thought I was standing here, looking at her like she was something out of a horror film.