Page 5 of The Shape of my Scar
She stayed quiet, curling her arms around her knees.
The voices faded to a low hum as they talked, too soft to catch.
But she didn’t go back to the mattress.
She slid down the wall, sat with her back against the cool concrete, only a few inches from the hole, and pulled her blanket up to her shoulders.
And she listened.
Chapter 3
Faolan
Faolan woke with a start, the concrete hard against her cheek, her fingers curled around the edge of the ratty blanket.
The noise had woken her.
Not the usual footsteps outside the door, and not the dripping of water from the shower pipe.
Someone was shouting.
“Fuck you! Hold still, you little twat!” growled a man’s voice.
A crash. A grunt.
“Fuck you,” another boy snarled, rougher, angrier. Then there was a scuffle and a muffled shout of pain. The sound of something being dragged, thumping across the floor. A stifled sigh, then silence.
Faolan sat upright, her heart hammering, breath sawing in and out of her throat.
She edged toward the hole in the wall.
The crack was still there, like a lightning bolt drawn on the wall, but someone had gouged the hole wider. A faint beam of light, coming from the hole in the wall, spilled across the floor,catching the dust in its path. It disappeared for a second before showing itself again like a lightsabre. Callum used to love Star Wars.
Someone must’ve moved on the other side.
She crept closer, breath shallow.
She crouched, pressing her face near the opening, just as the light disappeared again. She found herself looking into an eye on the other side.
She yelped and fell back, landing hard.
The eye had been bright. A strange mix of green, brown, and gold, like sunshine trapped in a drop of water.
Then a boy’s voice whispered, as if trying to talk to a shy puppy. “Hello?”
She swallowed and crept forward again. The light hadn’t come back; he was still there.
Now she could see more clearly. A bit of brown hair, the shadow of a face. He had moved back a little.
Neither of them spoke for a second.
They just…looked.
Seconds passed, heavy and quiet, as if they were both waiting to see who would speak first.
Finally, the boy said, “Who are you?”
She hesitated.
