ANATOMY OF A GIRL

part twenty-one

In the dark corner of the library that housed the works on dark beings, Sapphire tried to keep her composure – tried to focus on the information before her, because this too was a part of the puzzle that had become their lives. But it felt like there was an itch in the back of her skull, pulling away at her sanity.

She was restless, stuck in her own mind, replaying the images she'd seen of the lake. She placed the dense book on the floor before her. She couldn't read anything with the insistent hiss of her thoughts.

She nodded vaguely as Livya discussed the physiology of the Nyaik. She hadn't realized Livya had sat down beside her until she felt Livya's hand on her arm.

"What's bothering you?" Livya asked gently, her dark eyes meeting Sapphire's.

It seemed she was far worse at hiding her emotions than she claimed to be. Sapphire smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, I've just been a bit out of it today. I'm okay."

"Sapphire, healers can sense more than physical pain. I know you're hurting."

She leant her head back against the bookshelf, looking up toward the ornate library ceiling. It was a marvelous thing to behold – the history of the continent sculpted across the domed ceiling. Vast landscapes, scenes from the wars that shaped this realm, and above it all, the goddesses.

She looked back toward Livya. "I'll be okay. But thank you," she said with a smile. She'd grown up punishing herself for any vulnerability, because it was a weakness, could be exploited, but this moment with Livya felt like peace. Maybe she'd been wrong about strength all her life. It didn't have to be a violent thing – perhaps she could find strength in beautiful things, in quiet moments.

Livya squeezed her arm gently. "I'm here, if you ever want to talk."

*

During the walk back to her room, Sapphire realized that her mind remained quiet. She remembered Livya's hand on her arm and the hush that followed. Perhaps she could heal more than skin and bones – Livya had managed to dull the stab of thoughts that lived in the hollow of Sapphire's mind. For a second, she paused and let herself bask in the glory of the silence.

In that silence, without the knife of her anger twisting itself in her brain tissue, she wondered if she'd been too quick to accuse Zak of murder. He had to be investigated, yes, because he'd been at that lake while Arlo struggled, but she wasn't sure if she believed him capable of murder. He'd been nothing but nice to her in the past. In her anger, she'd made him out to be murderer to her best friends. Zak and Arlo were friends. They'd been close since they became roommates. She didn't understand what could've propelled him to kill Arlo. Even Arlo hadn't believed Zak could what she'd accused him of.

Because silence is but a temporary wonder, the conflict returned in her mind – a war raging itself within her skull. It could be a coincidence that he was there at all, but why wouldn't he have said anything to the police?

The ground beneath her feet was covered by a layer of browning leaves that crunched beneath her weight.

She'd never felt anger like that before last night. But then, she'd never cared about the outcome of something more than she cared about the outcome of this.

In a terrible way, she wanted it to be Zak. She did. She wanted everything to be over, to fix the mess that was their lives. Sapphire wanted to put it all behind her. Arlo would get the closure he deserved, and the person responsible would be locked away. It would be a simple thing – Zak would confess and they would call the police, and everything would return to normal once more.

As she entered her room, she greeted Flair and dropped her bags onto the floor. Sitting down on her bed, she felt the phone in her back pocket vibrate. Flair's phone on her bedside table did the same. Sapphire pulled her phone out, and, reading the message, she wished she hadn't. Her breath caught and her stomach dropped.