“Overnight. It wasn’t as bad as you’d think.”
Of course, then there was the next night… And the next… 2
Lyre hums thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving mine as she passes me a container of lo mein.
“Interesting. You had your wrist wrapped when we met, right? And it’s still bruised a few days later.”
I glance down at the ugly purple-green marks circling my wrist where Ellie had grabbed me. The bruises have faded slightly, and my wrist still hurts when I use it too much, but it’s healing.
“So how does a terrible wound like a whipping heal overnight,”
Lyre continues, twirling noodles around her chopsticks,
“when your wrist is still hurting days later?”
The question catches me off guard. I’ve never thought about it before.
“The whips weren’t really that bad,”
I offer lamely, picking at my food.
“Bad enough to scar, though.”
I fall silent, staring at the jar of scar cream as I poke at my lo mein.
“Have you had other instances where wounds healed abnormally fast?”
Lyre’s voice is casual, but her eyes are too sharp. She knows something.
My heart races.
“I don’t think so-“
I begin, then stop, remembering one. Maybe. The details are hazy.
“When I was twelve, my parents died in a home invasion gone wrong.”
The words are rote by now, it’s my story, the one I’ve told several times. A summary of a bleak time in my life.
Mom and Dad died.
Three days later, Alpha picked me up.
But what happened in those three days? That’s where it gets hazy. I remember being in the hospital, but I don’t remember being hurt.
“Were you hurt?”
Lyre asks, as if she can hear what I’m thinking.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I remember being in the hospital.”
For some reason, I’ve always remembered the hospital, but I remember thinking it was because of my parents.
But I have no memory of seeing Mom or Dad in the hospital.
Pain stabs through my head as I work through the timeline, and I shake my head abruptly.
Whatever secret is buried there can stay there. Mom’s my mom. Dad’s my dad. Maybe we should just leave it at that.
“Never mind.”
“Hmm.”
Lyre slurps a noodle louder than is necessary, pointing at my container with her chopsticks.
“Eat.”
The word is clear, even with her mouth full.
I grab my lo mein and make my way to the dinette. The small booth offers the perfect view of the TV, a welcome distraction from the sudden bomb Lyre’s thrown my way.
My head continues to ache, even though I stopped prodding at old, awful memories.
Lyre slides in across from me, her multicolored hair catching the overhead light.
“Aren’t you curious?”
“No.”
I shake my head d?cisively, stabbing at the noodles with my chopsticks.
“Not curious at all.”
Her mouth quirks up at one corner as she studies me. She reaches across with her chopsticks, fishing through her container until she plucks out a shrimp and places it deliberately on top of my noodles.
“Eat more. You’re going to need the energy.”
The comment makes me pause mid-bite.
“Why would I need energy?”
Lyre’s eyes flicker toward the door. The movement is quick, but I catch it-a flash of alertness, almost like she’s listening for something.
“Just a feeling I have.”
I narrow my eyes, lowering my chopsticks.
“You know something, don’t you? You’ve been cryptic and weird since we stopped at that truck stop earlier today, even changing our plans and camping here instead of driving longer.”
As I’m talking, Lyre leans across the table, snags the shrimp she’d just placed in my container, and shoves it in my mouth.
“Stop being so anxious and just enjoy dinner.”
She settles back into her seat with a huff.
“I’ll apply the scar cream when you’re done eating.”
The shrimp is perfectly cooked, tender with just enough spice, but I’m too distracted to appreciate it fully. I chew and swallow before responding.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not in a hurry.”
Lyre squints at me, her slitted eyes narrowing further.
“It’s probably better for everyone if you just deal with it.”
My laugh is half-snort, half-chuckle.
“You’re acting like my scars are somehow a life and death issue.”
Lyre stares at me for a long time. Long enough for me to take two bites before realizing she’s still watching me with a deadpan expression.
When I pause, trying to figure out what I said, she lets out a deep sigh.
“It must be nice to be oblivious,”
she muses, sounding genuinely envious.
After dinner, Lyre applies the scar cream to my back, apparently unfazed by the raised blemishes on my skin. The emollient is cool at first, but slowly begins to burn.
“Give it about thirty minutes,”
Lyre says, screwing the lid back onto the ointment jar.
“Just lay there. It’s going to hurt for a bit, but the pain will disappear soon.”
Grunting, I shove up onto my elbows, looking at her over my shoulder.
“Are you sure it’s safe? It’s burning my skin.”
“Its effectiveness comes with a price.”
She tosses the jar next to me.
“Trust me. In half an hour, your scars will be a memory. Just don’t touch it.”
Fiddling with the remote, I nod.
“Got it.”
Thankfully, with access to this back living room, I have the daybed to lie on and TV to watch, so I won’t be bored. Even if it is awkward to be topless around someone who’s essentially a stranger.
Lyre settles into the couch across from me, scrolling through her phone. She doesn’t need much to entertain herself, spending most of her time on the small device. Evenings with her have been peaceful and silent. Usually, I read one of her books-she has several-while she browses the internet.
Starting the next episode of the TV series I’d started earlier, I try to pay attention to the plot. Magical academy, a girl with secret powers, and the boys who fall in love with her… The writing is subpar, but reminds me of the awkward lines I’ve heard recently from Rafe and Ellie. It’s probably why I’ve become invested in this story, I want to see her come out on top and watch the antagonists get what they deserve. 2
Revenge isn’t something I have the power to attain, so I’m living vicariously through characters on screen.
But now, I can’t focus on the plot or the over-the-top acting as my mind keeps wandering to Lyre’s question. How did my wounds heal so quickly, while my wrist hasn’t? What strange phenomenon is behind it?
But then I shy away from the answers coming to mind.
I’m human. I’ve been human all my life, and I never expected to be anything else. Aside from Alpha’s-Brax’s-strange assumption I was his biological daughter… No one’s ever suspected otherwise. I have never suspected otherwise.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.