Bad Girls Have Bad Secrets

The Thirty Ninth Secret - Sorrow

“Bad Girls Have Bad Secrets.”

The Thirty Ninth Secret —
Sorrow

I was sitting aside Logan's bed the next morning, legs folded on the chair as I waited for him to wake up. I was the first one there, arriving even before visiting hours began. I passed by the nurse who'd previously taken care of my ribs after the fire, and when she saw me walking weirdly with a hand down on my midsection, she insisted I let her see if I was doing better, after claiming I looked terribly exhausted.

"You haven't been taking care of it," she'd said, frowning at me after she had observed. "It looks almost as bad as when you first came in."

"I fell."

"Hm," she murmured, dark pink lips pursing the slightest bit, "I see."

Her name was Ameerah, and the only reason I had recognised her was because of the headscarf she wore; it was the same colour as the one she had on that night. I was grateful she hadn't pestered me with questions and simply let me go.

"You know—" I was snapped out of my thoughts by Logan's scruffy morning voice; I hadn't even known he'd woken up. "— You're a nemophilist."

My stomach fluttered at his intense gaze on me and I brushed back a strand of hair from my face, "Right?"

He nodded, dimple peaking out when he asked, "You have no idea what that is, do you?"

"I don't study a dictionary in my free time."

He cracked a smile, eyes flickering to the ceiling. "I think you love the woods because it's so much like you. Beautiful and isolated."

"Recently, the woods haven't been very beautiful to me." Memories of the previous night went through my mind and I sighed quietly. Mason had three stab wounds, one to his back and two to the legs, along with a broken nose and gashes all over his face; one of his attackers wore a ring that worsened the impact of every blow, but he'd survive and heal, his stab wounds weren't going to lead to his death.

Logan held out his palm and I placed my hand in his warm one. He was getting better and had only a few days left in the hospital; after almost two weeks. His extended stay was because of his luekemia.

"Its beauty surely outweighs whatever it is that marres or scars it," he murmured, light eyes flickering to me, "And what was once tainted can be made beautiful again. The grass will grow, leaves will emerge and flowers will bloom, but only after the rain has come; and then, no matter what happens within, whatever turmoil and breakage, your love for it will outweigh any blemish. Don't you think so?"