“If These Scars Could Speak”
“I’m Not Okay” - (For Vincent)
I’m not a deep sleeper.
When you’re a combat doctor, you learn to sleep with one eye open, alert and aware of everything. The first drop of blood. The first cracked bone. The first scream…
And something is wrong.
After pulling on a pair of cutoff black slacks, I step out of the cabin and overhear the voices coming from the barn. Other than those low tones, it’s quiet. But the wind has kicked up, and I lift my head to the sky where thunderclouds are pouring in. It won’t be long before the rain comes. With the wind and the low temperatures, it will be icy.
As the only healer in our little group, I’m always hyper-aware of the weather, knowing any inclement types can produce a cold, a cold which can spread into a fever. Or how more accidents happen in the rain. More slipping and sliding with possible fractured bones.
Much like Raphael, I’m hyper aware of everything. We just channel it differently. He channels it for control, dominance, and power. I see his predatory power on display when I arrive at the barn’s open doorway and find him circling Vincent.
“Why do you think she waited until now to run?”
Run? Oh, fuck.
God, I should have seen this coming. I knead my brow. Even last night, I should have seen it coming. She had the option of sharing my cabin. She chose Rory’s.
I don’t stay for Vincent’s broody silence following Raphael’s monologue. I know what happens next. So, I return to my cabin and grab my emergency go bag. Just as I sling it over my shoulder, I sense the presence behind me—but not until his breath is drifting across the back of my neck.
“You will need more.”
I still flinch at the dark voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, Raphael. You know I hate it when you do that.” You’d think a combat soldier would be more aware.
When I turn and size him up, I heave a sigh and drop my bag. I couldn’t see him in the darkness of the barn, but now? He’s ready to hunt.
“What else do I need?” My muscles tense because I can sense the blood that will come. It happened every time a battle was coming. Like the metallic, deathly scent was already drifting through my nose.
“Everything this time.”
Fuck, I hate it when he says that even more. I pinch the bridge of my nose. The storm is coming. “I won’t challenge you, Raphael, but?—”
“No, you won’t,” he says, voice dark and grim.
I drop my hand. “But simply answer me, are you certain? Without any doubt in your mind?”
The silence thickens. It deepens, spreading ice into my bone marrow as I stare down my partner. He doesn’t narrow his eyes or clench his jaw. He’s stone cold. Unrelenting. An immovable object that no unstoppable force could push.
“Yes.”
I shrug. It’s all I need. “I’ll need some more supplies from the main cabin,” I point out and fetch the bigger medical bag beneath my bed. The emergency one is small, mostly used for first aid. Tonight, when we find Briella—alwayswhenand not if with Raphael—she will need as much treatment as she did in the dungeon where I keep as many supplies as I do in the cabin.
After getting the larger bag, I nod to Raphael, who hasn’t moved, and ask, “Need me to wake up Seth and Rory?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll handle them.”
I nod firmly. A heaviness settles over me as I head for the main cabin. On my way, I hear Vincent’s sounds of frustration as he blows off steam with the punching bag in the barn.
Sighing, I switch directions and move to the barn instead. He needs some reassurance. Raphael cannot give it, but I can. Unlike Raphael, who freezes the beast inside Vincent and sends it back into darkness, I let the creature come out…and calm the force.
“Vincent.”
He doesn’t stop swinging. What intrigues me is how he’s still wearing the hoodie. Normally, when Vincent lets loose, he strips down to his boxers and the black tank he wears under the hoodie. I understand why.
“Vincent,” I call him again, firmer this time.
