Page 85 of Dig Your Grave

Rock teased us about hosting the ceremony at a rock festival, which I politely declined.But we did consider holding it in the language arts garden, that spot so dear to us.The caretaker admin even offered to waive fees if we used an Edenvane venue, an ironic twist, but we appreciated the gesture.

Meanwhile, the ring on my finger gleamed every time I typed notes or studied in the library.Sometimes, I caught classmates glancing at it with envy or curiosity.But I didn’t care about gossip anymore.We earned our happiness in blood and tears.

Before the semester ended, Anubis and I made a quiet decision.We’d remove or mask the brand that once bound us to the Skulls.It was a scar we chose to bear openly for a while, but with the society dismantled, we wanted a fresh start, physically and emotionally.

We visited a local tattoo artist who specialized in scar cover-ups.The place smelled of antiseptic and ink.The artist, a tall woman with dyed purple hair, examined our brands with professional curiosity.

“Looks like a tough one,” she noted.“Burn scar.The edges are ragged.But we can transform it.Any design ideas?”

Anubis looked at me, letting me lead.“We thought maybe something symbolic,” I said, voice catching.“We want to turn this mark of pain into a symbol of survival and love.”

The artist nodded, a gentle smile.“I can do that.A new pattern that weaves around the scar.Maybe a phoenix or a stylized flower?”

We decided on lotus blossoms, flowers that bloom from murky waters, representing resilience.The artist drew designs that curved around the brand’s crescent shape, turning it into petals.We chose subtle coloring, faint blues and pinks, signifying transformation.

As the needle buzzed, I clenched Anubis’ hand, tears slipping.Pain flared, echoing the old brand agony, but this time it was purposeful.Anubis went next, choosing a similar design that echoed mine, but in darker colors.We faced the burn with quiet resolve, forging something beautiful from the damage.

Hours later, we left the shop with tender, bandaged shoulders and a sense of relief so profound it nearly buckled my knees.

Finals week flew by in a blur of tests, essay submissions, and last-minute projects.Anubis aced his major classes with surprising ease, despite all the chaos.I poured my heart into a final journalistic piece dissecting the old Skulls power structure, for my advanced media ethics course.Our professors gave us space, acknowledging the emotional load we carried.

On the last day of the semester, Anubis and I strolled through the campus one more time, hand in hand.The oak trees rustled, new leaves shimmering in the sun.Fresh paint adorned old buildings, and the bruised spirit of Edenvane seemed to breathe again.

We passed a group of first-year students touring with a campus guide.I caught snippets of their chatter, no mention of fear or intimidation, just excitement about classes and dorm assignments.My chest warmed.Maybe these new kids won’t face the darkness we did.

Outside the library, a small crowd gathered, reading the special Howler edition featuring our final interview.Kate spotted us, waving excitedly.“Suede!Anubis!Everyone’s raving about your piece.”She thrust a printed copy at me, the headline bold:

“One Last Look at the Skulls’ Downfall.An Exclusive with Suede Divore and Anubis Edenvane.”

I skimmed the first paragraphs, heart full.It recounted the journey from that first infiltration to Toccara’s justice, culminating in our decision to stay and rebuild.My eyes stung with tears.

Kate grinned.“You guys are legends now.Thanks for trusting me to tell it right.”

Anubis shook her hand.“No, thankyou.We couldn’t have done any of this alone.”

She ducked her head, blushing happily, then waved off praise.“Alright, enough mush.Go celebrate.You’re basically free to enjoy your summer now.”

We laughed, hugging her goodbye.As we walked away, I clutched the Howler paper close.We told the truth.Toccara’s memory endures.The Skulls can’t hurt anyone anymore.

The day we packed our dorm rooms, ready for the break, I felt a pang of bittersweetness.Edenvane, for all its horrors, had given me a scholarship, a chance, and ultimately, love.We’re not leaving forever, just the summer,I reminded myself.In the fall, we’d return to finish Anubis’ final year.But the caretaker’s cottage was gone, replaced by open grass.Eden Hall was now Divore Hall.Everything was new.

Anubis and I decided to say one final goodbye to the river that once haunted us.We walked down the winding path, the sun dipping low, gilding the water’s surface with orange light.The Boathouse stood quiet, no partying or watchers.Just peaceful reflection.

We found a small wooden dock, stepping onto it carefully.My stomach clenched, remembering the day of Toccara’s death, how the watchers had lured her to this area.But Anubis squeezed my hand, grounding me.We sat at the edge, letting our legs dangle over, watching the gentle current.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.The hush of the river merged with the distant chirp of evening insects.Then Anubis cleared his throat.“We used to fear this river,” he said softly.“It symbolized all the threats, the murders, the secrets.”

I nodded, eyes on the shimmering ripples.“But it’s just water.The evil was people’s choices.”

He turned to me.“I want this place to mean something else for us, a symbol of life moving on, of renewal.Toccara’s spirit is free now.So are we.”

Tears welled in my eyes.I slid closer, resting my head on his shoulder.“Thank you.For everything.”

He pressed a tender kiss to my hair.“Thank you, Suede, for refusing to break.For helping me see beyond my name.For giving me a reason to hope.”

We stayed there until dusk fell, soft pink clouds drifting overhead.In the dimming light, our new lotus tattoos glowed faintly under our sleeves, a promise that we had transformed our scars into something beautiful.

Six Months Later

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