EIGHTEEN | SCARLET

I waited anxiously throughout the whole period, but Skye never showed. And it was the same the next day, and the day after that. I waited, but Skye had disappeared.

I felt as though it was my fault, but there were other, deeper feelings that scared me now. I worried that he was injured, that he was hurt. Then I’d loop back around to worrying that I had been the one to hurt him, emotionally, at least, and I spent the next few days in a searing panic, dancing from one ledge to the next, my toes scraping at their edges and sending shards of rock tumbling down the myriad of cliff faces.

I let myself slip backwards instead, closing up the walls around me as I fell. I was hard, indestructible; I was surrounded by steel and by stone, and my barricades held firm. I let them down, just a little, when Kathrena, Falmer, or Rowan tried to talk to me. It wasn’t their fault that I’d hurt Skye, and in doing so I didn’t want to continue the pattern by hurting each of them in turn, too.

I let time was