Chapter 3

The footsteps slowed, then stopped right beside me and watched me.

“You’re hurt.”

His voice was calm. Too calm. Deep enough to turn heads, yet delivered with the same indifference someone would use to comment on the weather. But as if I need someone to  care, actually no one does and I learned to live without it.

I looked up.

Luka Ashford.

The popular guy from Class B. The straight-A student everyone whispered about. Dark hair falling just long enough to shadow his sharp jaw, blue eyes unreadable and steady. There was something about his presence that made the hallway feel smaller, heavier—like he didn’t need to raise his voice to be noticed.

I turned my head away. I don't want him to pity me. I hate it. Hate to feel so pathetic and helpless as if I haven't handled something far worse than this.

He bent down beside me and stared at me with his icy blue eyes...no he was calculating me, every shallow breath I take as if I'm a puzzle to solve.

"What?" I finally managed to speak, my voice rough.

"Nothing" He replied as he tore his gaze away from mine and took out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe out the blood from my mouth.

He held my arm as we walked towards the infirmary. He wasn't speaking much not even bothering to ask how I ended up like this but I guess that's fine with me. Actually its better that way.

Fewer words meant fewer expectations.

Fewer expectations meant less attachment.

That's the goal.

Avoid people.

Always.

As we reached the infirmary I sat on the bed and looked up to his nonchalant face.

"Thanks" It didn't felt necessary but I could at least be grateful, that he brought me here...without Luka's help God knows how long I would have to stay and lie there, bleeding on the cold floor.

He just offered me a blunt, unreadable smile and left without a word.

I wonder why is he like that. I mean he is popular...people gossip about him and compare him with Noah but honestly in my opinion both of them are nothing alike. Noah is the noise. Luka is the silence. Day and night never meant to be overlapped.

The nurse came and examined my stomach area. She looked concerned as her eyebrows knit together but this is nothing compared to the beatings uncle give me. She put an ice-pack on my bruises and gave me some painkillers and I swallowed them without a word.

Pain was familiar.

Concern wasn't.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the infirmary door slam open.

Noah Sterling entered the room in such a way as if he intended to break the ground with every step he took. Blood trailing out his nose and there was a small bruise blooming on his sharp cheekbone.

"Did you get into a fight again?" The nurse asked soaking a cloth prepared to clean his wounds. She didn't look surprised as if she was waiting for him to come here.

Noah didn't reply. He just sat on the bed beside mine angrily and murmuring curses at Oliver between his clenched teeth. His fists were clenched so tightly I could almost count every vein it showed. His knuckles were dark red and bruised as if he just struck something.

I stared ahead. Unmoving, heart racing and suddenly breathing- something so simple- felt like a pearl in the deep sea bed I knew it was there but I just can't reach it.

Blood. Too much blood.

Takes me back to the tragic scene ten years ago- mom and dad...the truck...metals screaming...red everywhere.

The room felt smaller. I tried to look away and get the image of blood out of my head but failed miserably. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes.

My hands shook uncontrollably as a sob escaped my lips before I could swallow it down...the nurse...where is she?...I need to calm down-

“Hey.”

His voice cut in—low, steady.

I felt his presence shift beside me, but he didn’t touch me. I shrank back anyway, my shoulders curling inward.

He paused.

“…You alright?” his voice gentler than I expected yet so calm. But it wasn't enough to help me calm down...nothing is.

I didn’t answer.

Without a word, he grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and turned his head away wiping the blood from his own nose, slow and methodical. No rush. No fuss. Just enough movement to block my view of the red.

The pressure in my chest eased, just a fraction.

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