Chapter Twenty Four

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Rowan had been right; the next day shone bright and ready, filling the afternoon with questioning from police who quickly grew irritated when I couldn't offer any answers on the muggers. My parents had shown up early, as soon as visiting hours had begun. Surprisingly, my mother didn't fret as much as I'd expected.

"It'll be okay, honey," she murmured low and soothing when my dad went to the vending machines. I was getting really tired of people saying that. "Those cuts will heal soon enough."

"But you know," I replied. My voice was clear now that Jace had healed the strangle hold the Sharve had indented to my throat. "You could've told us about all of this when we were younger. But you didn't."

Her face became unreadable. "It was to protect you. If you never found out, it would be a blessing, as you've come to know. If you remained human, then there would be no need."

"But why not tell Dad?" I accused. "He's my dad. Doesn't he deserve the truth about his wife and children? And the Law-"

"That is between him and I, not you." Her voice had turned deadly cold, and it cut my determination like a shard of ice. I flinched. She sounded like a different person.

"But it is my business. Especially if I have to be the one to walk on egg shells around him, right alongside you."

Now she was the one to flinch. That was when Dad returned, a nurse right on his heels who immediately checked my vitals and shone a light into my eyes.

"So pretty," she whispered with a smile. "I'd kill for eyes like yours."

"Thanks," I mumbled. They were eyes I now resented for lies. I kicked off the blanket and strode with wobbly balance to the restroom.

As hard as I tried to restrain myself, I couldn't resist staring in the mirror. The jagged line of puckered stitches ran the length of my face, splitting it at an uneven angle. It ached, but not as much as my chest when I thought of the horrible scar that would most likely appear after it healed. My fingers shook as I touched it. A small envelope of hatred formed for the Sharves, for their need to take what wasn't theirs, for their ability to mark and maim permanently without a 'Healer'. I wondered faintly if a Healer was a Morfilian that had natural healing abilities. Probably. But wouldn't that make Jace one?

But then I sat on the toilet and hung my head in my hands. I disregarded the pain of my sliced arm, and felt the burn of tears ready to break the dam and spill over. That feeling of the Sharve taking my essence. It was going to be a forever memory, one that would haunt me. The feeling of being eaten and erased, what made me me being slowly drained into nothing. It raked my insides raw.

"Skyler?" Jace's voice came from the other side of the door. "May I come in?"

He must have just returned. He had gone to grab some lunch from a nearby restaurant. The thought of food almost made me sick. Bile scraped up my throat. I didn't want him to see me like this, but the overwhelming need to be held quieted my refusal. Taking my silence as assent, he opened the door. I could see that my parents were by the window, attempting to look absorbed by the view. He quickly shut the door behind him.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked quietly. He almost sounded desperate. "I am sorry for not being there for you, and not telling you my suspicions. It was wrong of me."

Now I really did cry. His face cracked into horror. I felt his arms circle my shoulders an instant later, the good side of my face being smooshed to his chest. His heart beat with erratic urgency. The warmth that seeped into me from his skin was irresistible, and it drew me closer as I clung to him. A small sob escaped my lips, and it seemed to open me up to harder, rocking waves of tears.

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