The events of this bonus chapter take place before Lexie meets Atlas- HOWEVER- you will have to have read the FULL story of Sun Child in order to understand (and in order to not ruin anything for you...) Thank you for reading. This came to me in moment of blind inspiration so if you find a mistake please do not hesitate to let me know ♥

*   *   *

To the lost dreamers, 

and shattered minds-

The brave lungs that breath, 

and courageous hearts that beat. 

When I write about heroes- I'm writing about you. 

-world_joy_

***

I overheard one time, the pack warriors talking.

They didn't know I was there within hearing, but the words they spoke still seemed to capture my attention. I don't know why it stuck so much with me, their conversation.

The border picked up a rouge.

Scrawny thing.

Lucky to see it go though.

It was practically begging for the end.

I hate seeing when a wolf gets like that. So isolated enough to lose their mind. Wish there was something to be done...

I don't know why the conversation stayed in the back of my mind, rooting and festering in the shadows until now- staring at the mirror, those pack warriors words come back to haunt me in the most unimaginable way.

I stare at the sink edge, looking at the razor.

Scrawny thing.

Hollow eyes, shadowed face and sunken in cheeks stare back at me.

Lucky to see it go though.

Really it's the truth. Yes. Leave.

It was like a festering wound. You prodded and poked, trying to heal the infection only to realize the only way of getting better was to remove the dead skin altogether. Take away the bad and what did you have left? The good.

It was practically begging for the end.

Goddess. Please. Please. Remove me from the chaos of my mind. I can't stand it. I can't stand it. I need relief, some relief to just think. Or maybe that was the problem- I didn't want to think because if I thought.

My hands cling tighter to the edge of the skink, my breaths coming in faster.

Goddess, no. Don't think about it.

To late. I already was seeing the flashes. Feeling the pain and listening to the track of my sobs running over and over- not knowing if it was a replay of that night or the sound of the present.

I hate seeing when a wolf gets like that. So isolated enough to lose their mind.

Who knew that within a few short years after listening to that conversation, I would be able to understand exactly what they meant. I would be able to understand exactly how a rogue thought.

Rouge.

Maybe I could. But waiting another few years for my wolf to come to me just so I could run away.

A few years...

A few years more of this madness.

I swallow hard, bending my head down.

A few years. And then a few more. And then a whole lifetime stretched out before me of feeling this empty darkness within my soul and having to relive this nightmare each hour, minute, second.

No, my thoughts whispered, no that's too much.

Wish there was something to be done...

There is though. There is something that can be done.

My eyes roam up, and up until they land back onto the thin steel.

Yes. It's a voice filled with such relief, yes that will make it end. That's something. That's everything.

And my fingers curl around the metal. 

*   *   *

"Lexie."

I don't move at the sound of Mark's voice.

A guilt eats away inside me from ignoring him.

Maybe he will assume I'm asleep, like how father does, and leave me alone.

"Lexie."

Footsteps fall closer to the bed.

I still don't move. My body is heavy. It weighs me down. Just like my heart- the pressure of it in my chest pushing until I can hardly breathe.

"Lexie."

I close my eyes and wish desperately that he could look away. Mark. Always the Golden Boy Mark who had to take care of me. Who had to worry about me.

I promised I would try. Why did I make that promise?

"I'm fine Mark."

My voice gives me away. The roughness of it showing to him how long I've been laying here and what little water I've been drinking.

"Please Lexie, tell me what to do."

"I'm fine, really." I sit up now, the action taking my breath away and making spots appear before my eyes. I felt lightheaded.

Mark is kneeling beside the bed, a crushed look overtaking him as his gaze fully is able to see me now.

"I'm just tired."

"You're always tired."

We stare at each other.

Mark seemed to be the opposite of me now.

He was full of life- his sunkissed skin and fit body showing the presence of his upcoming first shift. He still had time for me. The thought drives me to sit up straighter and make more of an effort.

"I'm up now. What time is..."

My words fall away when I look and see that it's evening. The day had already passed.

"I'll..."

I can't finish my sentence. Instead, I look down, only to jerk my eyes back up to the ceiling.

I saw my hands when I looked down.

In the corner of my eyes, I see Mark stand.

"Wait here."

That sentence has me smiling, but I do as told.

Within a few seconds, he is back.

"You don't like to look at it."

We both know what he is talking about.

I don't answer him.

He holds his hand out, "Give me your hands, Lexie."

My eyes widen, "Why?"

A frustrated noise leaves his throat, "just do it."

Hesitantly I extend it. The feel of his skin has me pulling automatically away, but his grip tightens.

"I won't hurt you," he whispers, his eyes flashing up to me before he looks down at my wrists.

I jump when something cold touches them.

"What are-," I stop short at the sight of Mark holding a yellow marker. He draws a crude circle, before outlining it in black. The picture is not complete until he makes rays fall away from the shape.

Creating a sun.

It's something that only Mark would think of- and the picture doesn't suit me. It suits Mark.

Golden Boy Mark.

"Now you don't have to see them."

I can't take my eyes off of the skin. It's been a long time since I've been able to just stare at myself fully without facing any fear of seeing.

Now I'm able to take in how pale I am. How frail my wrists look. The sick blue of veins that stick out from Mark's beautiful picture.

Mark awkwardly stands, shuffling on his feet, until he pats my head and walks away.

My eyes fall to the markers he's left behind.

I reach for them.

What was it about the skin of our bodies.

So much could be done.

Chaos could be created on its surface, destruction could be etched into its corners. Ruin and darkness could cut onto the canvas that we carried.

But I never thought of it like this.

That just as how an ugliness could be forced on you.

So could beauty.

And so I drew another sun.

And another.

And another.

Letting the defiled skin, become something beautiful.