Chapter Eight
1295 Words
Scarlet learned quickly which movements made things worse. Sharp turns. Reaching across her body. Forgetting, even for a second, that her left arm wasn’t something she could trust anymore.
She sat halfway down the lecture hall with her hood up and sunglasses still on, daring anyone to comment. The lights buzzed faintly overhead. The professor’s voice came out even and distant, like it was meant for someone else.
Keep it still. Keep it hidden. Don’t draw attention. Her left arm was tucked tight against her side, sleeve pulled low, layered fabric doing its best impression of control. She wrote with her right hand, slower than usual, letters crowding each other like they were afraid of falling off the page.
When the pen slipped, it was almost funny. Almost. Pain flared instantly, bright and unforgiving. Scarlet sucked in a breath and locked her body down, eyes fixed on the page like she could out-stare it into retreat.
Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t give them anything. She didn’t look at her arm. She already knew what she’d see.
A few rows ahead, Henry turned at the sound she couldn’t fully suppress. He clocked the way her shoulders had gone rigid, the way she hadn’t breathed out. Farther back, Soren noticed too.
Scarlet adjusted her sleeve with careful fingers and forced herself to keep writing. The notes turned ugly. Uneven. Barely legible. She told herself she could rewrite them later. She told herself a lot of things.
-----
By the time the wind hit his face on the apartment deck, Pierce realized he’d been holding his breath for no reason at all. The ocean stretched out endlessly below them, grey and restless. He stared at it like it might offer instructions.
Cade came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Pierce’s waist without hesitation. No ceremony, just natural.
Pierce stiffened, reflexive. Then he let himself lean back.
“You thinking too loud again?” Cade asked.
Pierce exhaled. “I don’t know how you can tell.”
“You stop blinking.”
That got a quiet laugh out of him. Cade rested his chin against Pierce’s shoulder, steady and warm, like he belonged there.
“
My parents called last night,” Pierce said.
Cade didn’t move. “Yeah?”
“They asked if I was seeing anyone.”
Cade’s arms tightened just slightly. “And?”
“I said no.” Pierce swallowed. “It felt like lying. I didn’t expect that to bother me as much as it did.”
Cade stayed quiet for a beat, letting it settle. “You don’t owe them the truth before you owe it to yourself,” he said.
Pierce turned in his arms, searching Cade’s face for something he couldn’t name. “You’re very calm about this.”
Cade smiled. “I’m not calm. I’m just not scared of it.”
Pierce let that sit. Let himself believe it, just a little.
They didn’t kiss. They didn’t need to. Cade stayed where he was, arms firm, like he wasn’t going anywhere.
-----
Scarlet crossed the quad beside Henry, steps measured, shorter than usual. He adjusted without comment.
“You’ve been late to everything this week,” he said.
“Busy.”
“You hate being busy.” She almost smiled. It slipped away before it could settle. “Your arm,” Henry said.
“What about it?”
“You’re guarding it like it’s going to explode.”
Scarlet stopped walking. Turned to him, already braced. “I slept on it wrong.”
“For days?”
“I move around a lot.”
Henry watched her carefully. He didn’t argue. “Okay,” he said.
But his eyes said he didn’t believe her, and that landed harder than if he had.
Scarlet started walking again before he could say anything else.
-----
The study room felt too bright. Too exposed. Glass walls meant nowhere to disappear. Scarlet sat with Quinn, Soren, and Henry around the table, notebooks open, laptops humming. No one was fully focused. The air felt stretched thin.
Quinn tossed his pen up and caught it. “If I fail this midterm, I’m blaming all of you.”
“You’d fail regardless,” Scarlet said.
“Ruthless.”
She reached into her bag without thinking. Fabric slid back. The room changed. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough that she felt it before she saw it.
Her forearm was wrong. Swollen. Slightly curved. Held close to her body like it didn’t trust itself to exist on its own.
Soren went pale.nQuinn’s face shut down entirely.
“Scarlet,” Henry said, careful and quiet.
She followed his gaze. Oh. She yanked her sleeve down too fast. Pain detonated. Sharp and immediate. A whimper escaped before she could stop it.
“Jesus Christ,” Quinn gasped.
“It’s fine,” she said, too fast.
“That’s broken,” Soren said.
“No, it’s not.”
Henry leaned forward. “Scar—”
“I said, it’s fine.” Her voice cracked, thin and ugly. Silence filled the space, thick and judgmental. “I have to go.”
She stood. The room tilted. Her arm burned. She didn’t look at any of them as she pushed through the door. They followed her outside, but she was already gone.
“That’s been broken for days,” Quinn said.
“Minimum,” Soren replied.
Henry pulled out his phone, stared at it like it might accuse him. “We can’t pretend we didn’t see that.”
“We can’t force her either,” Quinn said.
“No,” Soren agreed. “But we can stop helping her lie.”
-----
Ward stood in the health center hallway, tablet in hand, staring at a chart he hadn’t meant to open:
Scarlet Mangione. Incomplete vitals. Notes that said “stable” when nothing about this felt stable.
Henry approached.
“You look like you’re about to ruin your own day,” Ward said.
“Her arm’s broken.”
Ward froze. “What?”
“Deformed. Swollen. She’s hiding it.”
Ward exhaled slowly. “How long?”
“At least since the party.”
Ward nodded once. “That changes things.”
And neither of them liked what that meant.
-----
That night, Pierce paced the apartment while Cade sat on the couch, watching him wear a path into the floor.
“If we don’t do something,” Pierce said, “and something happens—”
“Then that’s on us,” Cade said.
Pierce stopped. “You really think that?”
“I sincerely believe silence isn’t neutral.”
Pierce nodded, the truth of it pressing in. This wasn’t just about Scarlet. It never was.
-----
Scarlet sat on her bed with ice pressed awkwardly against her arm. Her hand shook too much to keep it steady. The cold barely touched the pain underneath. She swallowed pills without water. One. Two. Three.
Her phone buzzed.
HENRY:
We know it’s broken. Please let us help.
Another message followed.
WARD:
I can’t unhear this. We need to talk. I made an appointment for tomorrow. Don’t skip it.
Her chest tightened. Too many people. Too many eyes. That was the problem.
“You’re getting sloppy, mia cara.” Scarlet flinched before the words finished landing. Benny stood in the doorway, expression tight and controlled. “Too many friends,” he said. “Too many questions.”
He grabbed her wrist. Hard. She gasped as the arm shifted, bone grinding wrong, pain so sharp her vision went white.
Benny didn’t notice. He never did.
And at that moment, through the pain and the tears she refused to let fall, she understood something clearly for the first time. This wasn’t just about hiding anymore.
It was about survival.
- Writer
