A sharp hiss escaped my lips as I peeled off my clothes, gingerly separating the fabric from the bloodied wounds on my back. No matter how delicate my touch, the pain lingered—a dull, gnawing ache that refused to fade entirely.
Yet my body’s gift, the strange potency of my blood, promised solace. Even the deepest cuts would knit themselves whole within hours, leaving no trace. I’d spent years hiding this healing ability, a secret that often felt like a curse. But in moments like this, alone with my scars, I let myself believe it was a blessing—a whisper of protection from parents long gone.
“How should you thank me… What are *those* wounds?” Nate’s voice, laced with shock and suspicion, shattered the quiet.
I spun, startled, to find him framed by the open window. The night breeze stirre
