Unspoken Wounds That Never Healed

It was already 8 a.m., and class started by 10. Mr. Andrew hated latecomers — and I’d already promised my dad I’d pass this semester. There was no room for slip-ups. I tightened my grip on the bike’s handlebars, jumped on, and began pedaling like my future depended on it. Cars blurred past me as I weaved through them, heart pounding, wind whipping against my face. My headband sat firmly across my forehead, but my ponytail wasn't helping — flying wildly behind me like it had its own rebellious streak. By the time I got to campus, it was already 9:45 a.m. “Aurora! Hey, what’s up?” “I’m… good,” I said to Roselee, trying to catch my breath. She gave me a teasing look, folding her arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class by ten?” “Yes, I am. And as you can see, I just got here,” I replied, brushing past her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get going.” She smirked, linking her arm with mine for a second before letting go. “Yeah, don’t want Mr. Andrew reporting you to your dad.” “Yeah, whatever.” “Aurora?” she called as I turned. “Meet me at the Buka when you’re done with class, okay?” She gave me a wink and walked off toward her faculty building. By the time I got to class, Mr. Andrew had already begun. He was facing the board, back turned to us — and I knew this was my only chance to slip in unnoticed. I tiptoed into the lecture hall, holding my breath and praying for invisibility. But of course, my coursemates had other plans. “Hey, Aurora! Come sit with me!” Matthew’s voice echoed like a gunshot, cutting through the room. Mr. Andrew turned sharply, eyes locking on me. “Well,” he said dryly, “it’s good to have you join us, Miss…” He paused for dramatic effect. “...Aurora.” The whole class turned to look. Some smirked. Some whispered. And there was Matthew, still waving like a clown — that devilish smile on his face like he’d just won the lottery. God, I wish I could punch that handsome face of his. The cafeteria was packed. Students crowded every table, trays clattering, laughter bouncing off the walls, the aroma of fries, pizza, and whatever passed for today’s special hanging thick in the air. Matthew and I stood at the entrance, scanning the room like we were searching for hidden treasure. "See her anywhere?" I asked, rising on my toes. Matthew leaned slightly over me. "Too many heads. She could be blending in with the noise." “Knowing Roselee, she’s probably—" “Over here, losers!” A familiar voice cut through the chatter, and we both turned. There she was — Roselee Quinn, standing on her seat like she ruled the entire cafeteria, one hand in the air and a ridiculous grin on her face. I groaned. “She’s seriously doing this right now?” Matthew chuckled. “Gotta love her subtlety.” We weaved through the crowd and finally reached her table. “You’re insane,” I muttered, dropping into the seat beside her. “You’re late,” she said, wagging her brows as she plopped down dramatically. “And you brought trouble with you.” “Trouble has a name,” Matthew smirked, taking the seat across from us. “Oh, I know.” She leaned toward me, eyes gleaming. “So... what happened with Mr. Andrew? I heard someone crashed their own entrance today.” I gave Matthew a side-eye before turning to Roselee. “He was already teaching when I got in. I was trying to sneak in quietly—emphasis on trying—when someone decided to shout across the room and call my name.” Roselee’s eyes darted to Matthew, who just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Seriously?” she said, holding back a laugh. “Matthew!” “That’s why I like you, Matt,” she added with a wink. “Always out here making mama proud with your chaos.” Matthew gave a slow grin. “It’s a talent.” I shook my head and took a sip from my drink, pretending to ignore them both. But deep down? I was smiling too. Aurora stood frozen in place. Right where she’d told her friends to leave her. The breeze tugged at her coat. The faint hum of cars faded behind her. Everything around her stilled. Until a voice whispered in her ear — low, steady, but cold. A voice that didn’t ask for attention. It commanded it. “You know… you could’ve just followed your friends,” he said, his tone smooth but sharp. “Instead of riding that little bicycle of yours that’ll take you ages to get anywhere.” Aurora’s breath hitched. She spun around, but— He was already getting into a sleek black SUV, the door shutting with a soft thud. Before she could say a word… he was gone. The engine roared, tires rolling away with effortless grace — as if he’d never been there at all. Aurora remained rooted in place. Her fingers trembled around her bike handle. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She hadn’t seen his face. Not a glimpse. Only the haunting calm of his voice lingered... “You could’ve just followed your friends…” And just like that, the stranger was gone. But his words? They refused to leave.