The Silver Soldier

XXI

Juliette

15 minutes later:

As I lay beside him, my hand on his chest, I can feel the scars on his skin underneath my fingers. Too many scars, as if he has been collecting them for years. The ones on his arm had been a shock when I first saw them, he had been burned, badly. But these ones aren't burns, or accidental wounds. They're cuts, long, deep lines of scar tissue.

In the light of the T.V., I can see his tattoos, words in a language I don't understand, symbols I don't know the meaning of.

And then there is the metal. It seems to be woven into his skin, replacing the upper right side of his chest and a small piece of his shoulder. I've never seen anything like it. It's beautiful and scary at the same time. But I can't help but wonder what could have happened to him.

This isn't self inflicted, that much I know. He said his hands had been burned by his sisters bullies. Could they have done this too?

I push the thought out of my mind, making way for a new one. But it isn't any better than the first.

How many girls have seen these scars?

How many have touched them as I am doing now?

I involuntarily take my hand off his chest at the thought, in return I feel him shift. He looks at me, silently asking why I removed my hand. I try to change the topic.

"These." I run my thumb along his tattoos. "What do they say?"

He looks down, seeing which one I had chosen. "These ones are Russian." He explains. But instead of reading from the top of the list, he starts at the bottom. "They translate to Silver, Seven, Homecoming, Nine, Malevolent, Sixteen, Nightfall, Mercury, Chaos, and Covetous."

"Why those words?"

"My sister was obsessed with the Winter Soldier for a while. She gave me a list of activation words, just like Hydra used to control the Winter Soldier, and she pretended to order me around." He smiles slightly at the memory. "She would make me do her chores and homework. I didn't mind though."

I smile, looking back down at his tattoos. "And this one?"

"That one is Latin, it means 'to the stars who listen.'"

I stare at it, rereading the words written in black ink over and over again. But my eyes eventually move to one of his bigger scars, just above the waistline of his underwear. "Who did that to you?"

For a moment he is silent, and I wonder if I made the wrong choice bringing it up. But then he answers. "Have you ever wondered why I moved here?" He asks.

I shake my head.

"My Dad was friends with some dangerous people." Cole says, staring at the T.V. "Sometimes those people got angry when he didn't give them what they wanted. Which was often." Finally, his eyes meet mine. "They used me to get to my father. Do you understand?"

When I nod, he doesn't speak again. I feel sick to my stomach. "Do you want them gone?" I ask after a long moment of silence. He looks at me. "The scars, would you like them gone?"

"I don't know. I used to hate them, I was embarrassed to go swimming in public because of them." He begins to rub my bare back. "But I don't think I want them gone. They remind me of what I've overcome to get to where I am now. I don't hate them. Not anymore."

"I can understand that." I whisper.

He seems to want to say something, to ask a question. But stops himself.

"What is it?" I ask.

He looks at me, studying me. "If I told you something, something I've never told anyone before, would you keep it a secret?" He asks.

"Of course." I sit up a bit, giving him my attention.

"You know those two boys, the ones that beat on my sister?" I hear the uncertainty in his voice. "They weren't normal kids."

"Obviously, they tortured you."

"No, I don't mean that. I mean they weren't normal." He repeats. "They weren't human."

I go silent.

"God, you probably think I'm crazy." He runs a hand through his hair. "These two kids, they were strong. Too strong for their age. They had this hair," he gestures to the side of his face, "and these teeth." He shakes his head. "I thought I was going crazy. I really did." He is staring at me, I've never seen him scared. "But then I saw one here too."

Still, I stay silent.

"That night, when we were standing in the rain on your driveway. I saw it again. It had yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. I just..." he looks away. "Am I crazy, Juliette?"

I shake my head. "No. No, you're not crazy."

"How do you know? You can't just-"

"Cole. You're not crazy." I reassure. I thought I had sensed someone that night. Now I know my senses were right.

Austin.

"There's something I didn't tell you before, something you have the right to know." I say, he looks confused. He should be. I need to phrase this in a way that he won't go running for the hills when I tell him. "Monsters are real, Cole." I decide on. "They always have been. I didn't know how to say this before, but-"

I trail off. Something is wrong.

The window is open, just enough to get fresh air. But it's silent. There are no crickets, no cicadas in the trees. Utter silence.

I am about to turn around and scan the room when something hits the side of my head. I am knocked off the couch, landing hard on the floor.

My head hits the ground, sending a burst of blinding pain through my body. I struggle to drift in and out of consciousness. But it's strange. I've never had a problem like this, I've never been hit that hard. My ears are ringing, I can't hear anything but white noise.

I feel weak. Almost as if the air around me is full of wolfsbane. I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open, I can barely focus an anything.

Cole.

My eyes land on his figure, his body is hazy, but I can make out both him and the person standing next to him. They are close, an arm's length apart. I can tell because the person across from him has their arm out.

It takes me a moment to realize what is happening.

They have a gun to his head.

Before I can do anything about it, I slip back out of consciousness.