Scarlet shut the door to her room behind her with a quiet click, but inside her mind, the noise was deafening. The sharp image of Richard's scars burned in her vision, refusing to fade. She paced back and forth, the queen bee suddenly feeling small and restless.
*What the hell are those marks?* she wondered, her voice barely a whisper. *How did he get them?*
A flicker of something strange stirred inside her—not pity, not yet—but curiosity. The boy she had always mocked, beaten, and looked down on suddenly seemed... different. Fragile, broken in a way she hadn't imagined.
Scarlet's pride kept her from fully admitting it, but a tiny knot of guilt twisted in her chest. *Maybe I went too far today.* But just for a moment—then her usual defiance kicked in. She wasn't the kind of girl to be anyone's savior.
She sat on her bed, staring at the wall, replaying the scene in her mind. The way Richard flinched under her blows, the silence he kept when she screamed and pushed him around, and then... those scars.
*Why didn't he say anything?* she muttered under her breath. *Why hide them?*
Her thoughts were a tangled mess—part anger, part confusion, part something uncomfortably close to guilt.
But underneath it all, a fierce determination grew. *I have to know how he got those scars. And why no one else cares.*
Her fingers curled into a tight fist. She wasn't about to become anyone's charity case. But maybe... just maybe... she could be the one to finally understand Richard.
The next day, after school ended and the crowds dispersed, Scarlet lingered at the edge of the school grounds, her eyes fixed on Richard's retreating back. Quiet as a shadow, she followed him at a careful distance through winding streets until he reached the neighborhood where he lived.
Her breath caught as she stopped outside a house — a beautiful, well-kept home with neat flower beds and shining windows that gleamed even under the dull afternoon light. It was a stark contrast to the boy she thought she knew.
She moved closer, heart pounding, and peered through a window.
Inside, what she saw froze her to the spot.
The air seemed to constrict around her as a wave of horror crashed over her—so heavy it stole her breath and anchored her feet to the cold pavement.
Scarlet remained motionless, staring through the glass, trapped between shock and the growing weight of a guilt she didn't yet fully understand.
The beautiful house suddenly felt like a cage — and she was powerless to look away.