My Little Moon - 𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗈𝗌

32. dual wounds

The feeling of glass lodge in between every inch of her skin, is a metaphor Catrina would use when describing what she'd just endured. Her legs wobbled; palms pressed against the furnished wooden door in an attempt to catch herself from plummeting down on the ground.

Her heartbeat felt like it would never cease. Catrina never left her eyes on the floor, she kept observing every slit that decorated each floorboard. It was a tactic she learned over the course of her entire life whenever she got anxious; it was to help her calm down.

Catrina took in a deep, ragged breath. Closed her eyes, and pursed her lips. Whomever tried to grab her, left a distinct mark, and it was certainly intentional.

Cracking one eye open, she glanced down on her forearm; making out the oval shaped contusion that had started to make itself known. It decorated her porcelain skin with sparks of yellow and gray. It's as if she was back in the way she was before, she would get these often if not almost. . .everyday.

In a way, she was used to it.

Outside, the sky began to darken as dusk soon prevailed the heavens. She had never gone home this late, nor has she encountered anything like what she had earlier. That was something out of a terrible nightmare.

Unaware of the collective prying eyes, her feet hastened atop the stairs; head looking down and hands bawled into tight fists. Everyone was quiet whilst they trailed on Catrina, wondering why the young girl was so submerged in her own little world.

"Psht! Catrina. . ." Borgy called. But it fell on deaf ears.

"Kit-Cat! Whoi?" Matthew stood and strode leisurely towards her, ". . .hey, hey, 'yo?"

Matt barely touched the blades of her shoulder before she completely turned and face him. Eyes widening and ears turning incredibly red. Catrina scanned the whole room and realized that she wasn't, in fact, alone. She stood there, frozen halfway on the stairway, looking down at the rest with contracted pupils.

She was met with the faces of Imelda, Imee, and Irene; all with quizzical gazes. The eight nephews with raised brows. Bongbong, Aimee, and Greggy with contorted curiosity. And Amaris. . .a blank canvas.

"A-ay. . .good e-evening po."

"Oh my god, bakit ngayon ka lang? Where were you kasi? Bakit. . ." Matt blabbered until he suddenly stopped and yanked Catrina's forearm up for him to see. "Hoy?! Ano 'toh? Bakit may pa—"

"—wala! Kuya wala, promise. . .nabangga ko lang 'yan." Catrina quickly interjected. Too scared that the rest would hear and worry. But Matthew was persistent to which everybody began to meddle with the situation.

"Anong 'nabangga' mo lang? Catrina do you even see what I'm seeing?!" His voice grew an octave higher; astounding everyone in the room and making Imee stand up to interfere after seeing Catrina recoil and stumble back.

"Hey, Matthew! You're scaring her! Ano ba kasi 'yan, ha?" The woman approached, gently pulling her son away and exchanged for his spot.

"Mom, may pasa siya oh! Look!" Matt ran his fingers through his hair; his jaw clenched whilst eyes narrowed down on the young girl's arm.

The moment that came out of his mouth, Irene and the rest hastily came nearer to where they stood and gaped at whatever was embellished on Catrina's arm. And sure enough, a bruise the size of a small apple, proudly showed itself to everyone.

Perhaps they were being irrational, and perhaps it was simply an accident. But after a month or two of being under the same roof as Catrina. . .the rest observed that she was careful. She was such a meticulous person that it was impossible to think that, that mark on her arm is merely an accident.