~~~

I was still in Kate's bed, my wounds freshly treated.

The pain had dulled, but the memory clung to me like a stain I couldn't scrub off.

I hadn't told Kate the full story. I couldn't.

Because if I did, I'd have to accept it.

I'd have to admit that in an instant, everything I believed about Devon had shattered.

I couldn't understand how he could go from passionately kissing me to looking at me as if I were an enemy. One moment, he was apologizing, telling me I meant something to him. The next, he was drawing blood.

"Kira."

I flinched.

Kate was still on the floor in front of me, her emerald eyes soft with concern. Her voice was gentle, like my mom's-calm, patient, waiting.

"Talk to me," she urged. "What exactly happened?"

I sat up slowly, my fingers curling into the sheets.

"You need to sleep, Kate. You have training in the morning," I murmured, my voice foreign even to myself. "Thanks for everything."

I didn't wait for a response.

Instead, I stood, crossed the room, and climbed into my bed. I could feel her watching me, her silence heavy with things unsaid.

Minutes passed. Then-

"I'm always here, Kira," she whispered. "Always will be. The only reason I yelled at you the other day was because I care. I don't want to see you get hurt. I admire you, believe it or not. You're the bravest person I know. And whatever's going on, you'll figure it out. I'm on your side if you need me."

A pause.

"Goodnight."

Tears burned the back of my throat.

"Goodnight." I barely got the word out.

LATER...

I didn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, Devon was there.

Crimson eyes. Claws tearing into my skin. His voice was cold and unfamiliar, demanding answers I didn't have.

When I finally gave up on sleep, I walked to the bathroom and sat in front of the mirror.

The wounds on my arms were swollen, the skin raised and angry. My head throbbed.

Even now, I could still feel his grip.

Tears blurred my vision.

I wiped them away.

I wasn't going to cry.

I forced a smile at my reflection.

More tears fell.

I wiped them again.

Why couldn't I stop?

I smiled wider, stretching my lips-

More tears.

"You're weak."

I stiffened. The voice in my head was sharp, cutting.

"That's why he could do this to you."

My trembling hands clenched into fists.

"Look at you. No powers. Nothing. You're the reason your dad's dead. You're the reason your mom might be dead. You. It's all your fault. Weakling. Disgrace."

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands to my ears.

"He saw it. Took advantage of it. He doesn't feel anything for you except pity. But you, stupid you, thought otherwise. You're so stupid."

"ENOUGH!"

My fist slammed into the mirror. A crack splintered across the glass, but it didn't shatter.

"You can't even break a damn mirror."

"SHUT UP!"

I struck it again. And again.

Blood smeared across the glass, staining the fractured reflection staring back at me. Pain lanced through my hands, but I welcomed it.

I pounded my fists into the mirror, violent sobs shaking my body.

Hit.
Break.
Destroy.

I needed to feel something other than this-this emptiness, this shame, this anger curling inside me like a monster.

When I finally stopped, my breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

The mirror was ruined.

Shards of glass reflected different versions of me-broken, hollow-eyed, with blood-streaked hands and bruises.

But something was wrong.

In every shard, my eyes weren't the brown shade I'd grown to despise.

They were golden.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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