It was dusk by the time Hana had finished at the library and began the walk back to her dorm. She was sure she'd be the last one outside the dorms, but that wasn't the case, as she passed Thorn.
Strangely, his eyes were unblinking, and the whites of them bright. Actually, she wasn't sure she saw any colour in his eyes. His eyes were hazel, but all she saw was white. Hana didn't think much of it — it must've been the darkness of dusk, or the reflection of the moon in his eyes.
Behind her, a glass window splintered. She spun around to face the admin building, and in front of the window, she noticed Thorn. His body was tense and his white (they really were white) eyes were trained on her. He watched her closely, but at the same time, he wasn't looking at her at all.
A single light glowed on the building's wall, illuminating the side of his face. Hana thought he almost looked evil in the dim light. But this was the Thorn she'd known for years.
Another resounding crack. She could see the break in the middle of the window now, branching outwards with slow and terrifying cracks. Her reflection in the window became distorted.
"Thorn, what are you doing? Why are you breaking the glass?" No answer. "Thorn?" she repeated. Static filled her ears.
The crack in the window branched out further, forming a kind of twisted rose bush — beautiful with resemblance to a glass angel — until it had reached the edge window pane. Hana knew manipulating glass was Thorn's ability, so it had to be him breaking the glass. Besides, there wasn't anyone else around, but why? Why was he cracking the glass?
Suddenly, a shard of glass was missing from the window, and then it flew through the air toward Hana. The shard tore through flesh and lodged itself in her shoulder. She fell to the ground before she'd even realised it hit her. A sharp, spiralling pain numbed her arm, and the pain radiated downward. All she felt was the burning pain in her arm, and the throbbing. She couldn't forget the throbbing. The flesh around the cold glass pulsed. She couldn't push her mind passed anything else, like the pain had set the concrete in her head.
The pain tensed her own muscles and she was stuck — mind and body. She became aware that she was crying and that her tears mixed with the blood that ran down her arm. Locks of her hair, that are usually a light brown, became a sickening red and clumped together.
She looked up at Thorn, feeling more anger than pain for a heavenly second. "Why? Thorn!" Her voice shook, and she wasn't sure she could speak anymore. The pain returned and it became all she could feel again. She wondered how she ever could have forgotten the pain, even for a second.
She held her hand to the shard and tried to prevent herself from bleeding out. But she couldn't bleed out, could she? Was it that bad? God, what if I die? Anger consumed her once more and she wanted to scream. Why would Thorn do that? Why isn't he helping me? Why is looking at me like that? Why won't it stop hurting?
Thorn hadn't moved since he'd thrown the glass shard at her. She tried to drag herself further away from him, the grass beneath her stained red. His eyes remained white, and she wished she could disappear, or dissolve into the ground. Anything to escape his eyes. What is wrong with you? She wanted to scream out, but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything, and everywhere hurt.
She reached a building, resting her back against it. Between calls for help and trying to pull herself up, she saw more shards breaking away from the surrounding glass. She wasn't even sure anyone could hear her screams. She could barely hear them herself. But maybe that was because of the throbbing in her ears. She couldn't forget the throbbing.
"Stop! Thorn, stop!" she yelled, her voice was still shaking.
The glass hovered in the air. She didn't know what to do with herself in that moment. Should she crawl away? Should she fight back? Could she fight back? What good would her magic do? She couldn't see how controlling plants could help her out of this situation — not when the forest was so far, and her muscles so weak. At this moment, she wished she had any other magic. One that could save her, that she could use to fight back, to escape, to call for help.
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ANATOMY OF A GIRL
FantasyDidn't you know? Destructive youths with killer tendencies and magic in their veins are the best kind. book i, first draft © 2019, arkhaic