The narrow entrance to the washroom called to her. She staggered toward it, the floor beneath her feet listing to the side. Her shoulder slammed into the doorjamb, and she welcomed the pain, needed it to keep the world from spinning.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the lid of the toilet. Fumbling hands reached for the compartment under the sink. It hissed opened, and she grabbed her kit.
It hit the counter with abang. She clicked it open and swiped the laser scalpel from its place on the side, then yanked on her sleeve, exposing her forearm.
Shallow breaths filled the small space of the washroom. The sight of those missing lines clenched a tight band around her ribs. Stars dottedher vision. She flicked her thumb over the control, and the laser scalpel hummed softly, the head glowing a bright blue. She brought it closer to her arm.
“You are distressed.” His voice came from right above her.
She yelped and jerked straight, hitting the kit with her elbow. It slid off the edge of the counter, everything tumbling to the floor in a clatter, including the laser scalpel she held. The regenerator, the synthetic bandages, the blades, the topical ointment—it all sprayed across the shiny white floor.
Wynn’s heart raced with shame.Caught. Exposed. Raw. She was an ulcer open to the elements, unprotected and festering. Mortification burned through her so hot it felt like her skin blazed red from head to toe.
“Get out!” she screamed, standing.
He didn’t move fast enough, and she pushed two hands against his chest. “Get. Out.” The flexible material shifted beneath her hands; his heart beat beneath her palms.
She shoved him. Hard.
There was no give at first, like she tried to open blast doors with her bare hands, but then he backed up a step, then another. She gave him one last shove, and he continued his retreat, unaided, until he stood in the corridor. Not fully, though, because the door didn’t close.
She spun around, and dove back into the washroom. As soon as the door closed behind her, she locked it.
Ignoring the mess on the floor, she grabbed the laser scalpel. The toilet lid squeaked when she sat on it. She placed her elbow on her knee, forearm up, and flicked her thumb against the scalpel’s control. It hummed, glowing blue.
But she didn’t lower it to her skin because the world had stopped spinning.
She stared at her arm, unsettled. The itchy sensation had receded too. She gasped a breath, heart rate slowing, then flicked off the laser scalpel.
“Your marks.”
Her fingers tightened on the medical tool at the sound of his voice. It echoed from a distance, like he stood where she’d left him.
“They were important to you?” he called.
Another sob escaped her. She hadn’t cried in so long, and it hurt. She hurt everywhere.
“Yes,” she whispered, not loud enough for him to hear, but loud enough to acknowledge the pain. She set the scalpel on the edge of the counter.
“I—” He stopped speaking.
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and listened.
“I regret that I have distressed you.”
She snorted. “Distressed” didn’t begin to cover the emotions she was feeling right now.
A wet sound bounced off the walls when she snuffed her runny nose. Realizing what a mess she was, she grabbed a towel out of the compartment near the steam shower, and wiped her face. The towel dangled from her fingertips as she stared at the door, trying to make sense of what had happened.
He’d healed her, helped her, but in doing so had fixed everything about her skin. Not just her scars, but her cuticles too. Where she sometimes picked at them was now smooth and unblemished. Her lips too. They were always dry, but when she pressed them together, they squished together with plump moisture.
What else had he done to her with that touch? Were there things he’d healed she couldn’t see?
If only he could fix all her deeper issues as easily.
It was what everyone had been told to fear—the touch of a Calypson. That just stepping close would change you into one of them. It was one reason the CORE government left them alone, the fear that any contact, even in battle would change everyone. That, and Calypsons kept to themselves, hidden from sight in their nebula. There were whispersthat some group somewhere planned a siege of Sector Ten, but it hadn’t happened yet.
That they lived a peaceful, solitary existence protected them from the CORE government.
