✓ | Curse Breaker ⋆ Julian Blackthorn [1]

xviii. HEALING PROCESS

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: HEALING PROCESS

❛just get in the blanket fort.❜

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Ice-cold water peppered Zoya's skin with rough kisses as she slid down the wet bathroom wall, hands pressed over her mouth in hopes of suffocating the loud sobs that threatened to leave her throat.

All the water had run cold, signaling that the time Zoya was supposed to spend showering was long gone and - yet - the girl found herself unable to move. Her fingers had turned numb; icy temperature of water and the persistent rubbing of the scorched blood had taken their toll. Her ashen skin was shivering, but her eyes remained a striking aquamarine as they trailed after the crimson colored water that disappeared through the silver drain.

She could have died. She could have died.

The sweat and blood may have been scrubbed off of her naked skin, but there were some things water could not erase. The taunting scenes of her deep wound flashed before her eyes, reminding her of all the times she got injured while training with Emma. The scars and cuts that she'd gotten while climbing or Cortana accidentally kissing her skin were a child's play when compared to the white line that stretched across her lower abdomen.

Blood was no stranger to Zoya. She had met it countless times before and most of the moments, the girl would have liked to just erase from her memory.

It was a shame life didn't work that way.

Had she been shot by an arrow only months earlier, she would have entirely lost it. She would have fainted, completely surrendered to her fears. Her eyes would have sought for any possibility to avoid it, switching directions like reckless drivers switched lanes. Now, Zoya simply stared at the crimson trail.

Her lungs felt tight, but she didn't feel the need to avoid the mere sight of her own blood. It was like she had grown thicker skin, like her mind had become so filled with worry and the color red that it couldn't respond anymore.

Zoya didn't know how she felt; her chest was hollow and numb. There was no way to describe it. She didn't feel the beating of her heart or the cold droplets gliding down her collarbones - she just felt that she couldn't breathe.

How would have Emma felt if she died? And Julian? What about the rest of the Blackthorns?

The thought of Emma drawing iratze after iratze on her skin, only for them to vanish, caused Zoya's hands to clench into fists. The Caldwell girl didn't understand how it was possible; unless she was truly on the verge of dying, the healing runes should have worked. It was a simple procedure, a no-brainer, and yet Zoya couldn't stop looking at the problem from all the angles.