Scars that learned to love

Untitled Episode

*Chapter 1*

Gabriella, wake up!" Naomie’s voice sliced through the bedroom door. "You leave this evening! Have you even looked at your hair?"

Gabriella jolted upright, the sheets tangling around her legs. She scrambled into a cold shower, the icy spray stripping the last remnants of sleep from her marrow. She dressed quickly in faded blue jeans and a crisp white T-shirt.

"Your cousin already hauled the bags to the stop!" David called from the hallway.

Gabriella sprinted out of the room, pulling her little sisters into a tight embrace. She held them a second too long, her chest buzzing with a volatile mix of pride and terror. This was the city. This was university.

"Did you pack everything?" David asked, his eyes scanning her face for a sign of panic.

"I doubt it," Naomie teased, arching an eyebrow. "Check her bag. She's likely left her phone on the nightstand."

Gabriella pressed her lips together, fighting the sting of tears.

"Mum, I didn't forget," she whispered.

At the bus stop, Gabriella handed over the fare with trembling fingers. The coins were few—the last of her parents' savings—but she gripped the ticket like a golden passport.

Inside the bus, the air smelled of diesel and stale upholstery. Behind her, a group of girls lounged in the seats, the blue light of expensive smartphones illuminating their faces. Their laughter was sharp, punctuated by names of celebrities Gabriella didn't recognize.

"My dear, where are we?" the woman in the next seat asked.

Gabriella blinked, her voice small. "I... I don't know, Mum."

A burst of laughter erupted from the girls behind her. Gabriella lowered her head, heat flooding her cheeks. She felt the sudden urge to shrink into the vinyl seat.

"It's okay, my dear," the woman said, resting a warm hand on Gabriella’s arm. "Is this your first time heading to the city?"

"Yes, Mum," Gabriella whispered. "My first time."

From across the aisle, a young man leaned forward, his expression neutral. "We're at King Hill. The stop is in three minutes."

"Thank you, my son," the woman replied, her face softening.

As the bus screeched to a halt, Gabriella pulled out the aging phone her father had handed her the previous night. The screen had a hairline crack running through the center. She dialed Uncle Hilton.

"We've reached," she told him, her voice gaining a sliver of strength.

"I'm turning the corner now," Hilton’s voice crackled through the speaker. "I'll be there shortly."

*Chapter 2 *

The bus hissed to a stop. Gabriella lingered in her seat, her pulse drumming against her ribs.

"Gabriella!"

She bolted from the doors. Uncle Hilton stood there, arms wide.

"I've got you, kid," he said, hoisting her bags into the trunk.

The drive was a blur of gray asphalt and heavy eyelids. When they arrived at 6:00 AM, the morning air sliced through her thin shirt. Sara opened the door and saw Gabriella shivering.

"Get inside, dear. Now."

A hot shower washed away the grime of the journey. By 7:30, Gabriella wore brown pants and a striped blouse, her makeup light and precise.

"Wait in the car," Hilton commanded.

The school gates loomed like iron giants. Inside the registrar's office, the air smelled of old paper and ink.

"Wait for the other first-years in the hall," the clerk directed.

Gabriella froze. Students swirled around her, their laughter loud and confident.

"Hey, your first day here?"

She turned to a tall boy with unblinking eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, clutching her bag strap.

"I'm Layford," he smiled. "Can we be friends when school starts?"

"I'd like that."

Suddenly, a voice boomed across the room.

"Get your phones! Google Chrome, now! Register!" Mr. Rogers shouted.

Gabriella stared at her father's old phone. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks. Her fingers trembled.

"Layford, please help me," she whispered.

"I got you," he replied.

Orientation ended in a whirlwind. Two girls with wide smiles approached her.

"Come, let’s go to our room!" Tia exclaimed, her laugh ringing through the corridor.

Aria nodded, grinning. "Did you see that guy in the blue blazer? He acts like he owns the zip code."

Gabriella laughed, the knot in her chest loosening. But as Uncle Hilton’s car pulled up to the gate, a boy stepped into her path.

"Can I have your number?"

Gabriella’s throat closed. The word *no* died in her windpipe. She typed the digits quickly.

"What's your name again?"

"Gabriella!" she called, already sprinting toward the car.

At home, Mercy set a plate of steaming food before her.

"You were hungry," Mercy teased.

"Very," Gabriella mumbled, mouth full.

Later, in the dark, her phone buzzed.

*You’re so beautiful, my dear. It’s me, Tristan Thompson. Remember me?*

Gabriella bit her lip, typing back. The messages turned heated, making her cheeks burn.

"Oh s**t, I need to sleep," she whispered to the ceiling.

The next morning, Hilton waited. "Ready?"

Gabriella nodded, her phone a warm weight in her palm.

"You came," Layford greeted her at the hall.

"I came," she whispered.

He guided her through the queues, his fingers flying over her cracked screen.

"You're doing fine, Gabriella."

When the screen finally flashed *Registered*, Layford nudged her.

"Told you. You belong here."

Her phone buzzed. *Meet me after class? I want to see you again.*

She typed *Later* and locked the screen. That night, the glow returned.

*You're beautiful. I can't stop thinking about you.*

"Gabriella, stop," she whispered to the empty room.

She didn't stop. She typed back.

*Chapter 3 *

Gabriella stopped the long commute and moved into a small room near campus with Tia. They shared a bond built on morning walks and whispered secrets.

"Hurry up, Mesho Mesho!" Tia laughed, her voice echoing through the quad. "If we're late again, the professor will actually kill us."

"I'm coming!" Gabriella replied, clutching her books.

Then came Tristan. He seemed perfect—caring, respectful, and sweet. One afternoon, a message buzzed on Gabriella's screen.

"I'll be at your place today. I want to teach you how to do your assignment."

Gabriella typed no, but her thumb hovered. She deleted the word. Tia peeked over her shoulder and grinned.

"Call him over. He can teach us both."

Gabriella hesitated, then sent a reply.

"Sure, you can come. But come with food."

Tristan arrived at two, carrying bags of groceries. He acted like he owned the space. Gabriella spent a few minutes on the phone with her mother, complaining about her glitching phone. Once the call ended and Tia slipped out to give them privacy, the room fell silent.

"How old are you again?" Tristan asked.

"Eighteen."

"I'm twenty-three," he said. He shifted closer. "Sit near me."

Gabriella shook her head and leaned away.

Tristan stopped talking. The silence became a weapon, heavy and suffocating. Gabriella trembled, unable to handle the sudden tension, and slid across the mattress to sit beside him.

He opened the book, but his focus shifted. His hand slid from the page to her thigh, gripping the skin hard. Gabriella's chest tightened.

"Stop," she whispered.

Tristan ignored her. He shoved her back against the pillows, his weight crushing the air from her lungs. He ripped her clothes aside, the sound of tearing fabric loud in the quiet room. He didn't use any lubricant; he just shoved his thick, rigid c**k into her dry p***y.

Gabriella gasped, her body jolting at the friction. He groaned, his hips slamming into her with a rhythmic, wet shlicking sound. The smell of sweat and cheap cologne filled her nose. He thrust deeper, hitting her cervix, while his hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her cries. Squelching noises filled the air as he pounded into her, his balls slapping against her thighs. He let out a guttural shout, spilling his warm c*m deep inside her before pulling out with a wet pop.

The room turned ice-cold.

"Get out," Gabriella choked out.

Tristan stood up and adjusted his pants. He stepped outside and called Tia.

"Hey, Gabriella's feeling sick. I've got to run to an appointment, so I'm heading out."

The lie stung worse than the act. Gabriella collapsed into a dreamless sleep. The next morning, her phone buzzed with a long text.

"Babe I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you. I lost control. You mean everything to me. Please don't shut me out. I'll make it right. I promise."

She didn't answer. That night, she sat with Tia.

"He did something to me," Gabriella whispered, omitting the worst of it.

"Give him a chance," Tia said gently. "He's sorry. People make mistakes."

Gabriella looked at the apology on her screen. She remembered the kindness he had shown before the silence. She replied. They went back to laughing, pretending the floor hadn't vanished beneath her.

*Chapter 4*

Tia shoved the last of her sweaters into a duffel bag, the fabric scratching against the floor.

"You’re sure you don't want me to help you find a new roommate?" Tia asked.

"I'm fine," Gabriella replied, leaning against the doorframe. "I have my own space now. No more fighting over the biscuits."

Tia paused, her gaze lingering on Gabriella'spale face. "The silence in here gets heavy, El. Don't let it press you down."

"I'll be okay."

By evening, the bed across the room stood stripped. The mattress looked like a skeletal remain. Elara sat on the edge of her own bed, watching the beige paint of the wall ripple in the dim light. Her phone buzzed, the vibration jarring in the void.

"I miss you," Tristan’s voice crackled through the speaker. "Please talk to me. I’m trying to be better."

Gabriella stared at the blank screen.

"I know you're there," he continued. "I can hear you breathing. Just tell me you forgive me."

"I can't," Gabriella whispered.

"I'm sorry, Gabriella. A hundred times over. I'm a different person now."

"You're the person who didn't stop," she said, her voice trembling. "That person is still here."

She ended the call and pressed the phone face-down. The silence rushed back, filling the gaps Tia had left behind. It felt like water filling a sinking ship.

The phone rang again an hour later. This time, it was her mother.

"How is the semester going, baby?"

"I'm fine, Mama. School is okay."

"You sound distant. Is everything alright in the dorm?"

"Perfect," Gabriella said, her voice a practiced mask. "Just a lot of reading. I'm exhausted."

"Get some sleep then. I love you."

"Love you too."

Gabriella curled into a ball, pulling the blanket tight until she felt small enough to disappear. Every floorboard creak in the hallway made her heart hammer against her ribs. She flinched at the distant sound of a neighbor's knock, her muscles locking tight.

She reached for a notebook on the nightstand. The pen scratched harshly against the paper.

*Today I walked to class alone and nobody noticed,* she wrote.

She paused, staring at the ink.

*Today I ate and it didn’t hurt.*

Another line followed, the handwriting jagged.

*Today I didn’t answer Tristan and I felt strong for five minutes.*

She closed the book. Five minutes felt like a victory.

Gabriella looked at the empty bed across the room. The space was too large for one person, a vacuum of memories and fear. She lay back, listening to the roar of her own thoughts, waiting for the moment the word "no" finally felt like a shield instead of a whisper.