Where The Scars Lie

There are scars no one sees, but they dictate every step we take.

The sun began to filter through the curtains of Olivia’s room. It was Tuesday, baking day—her favorite. She wasn’t a great cook, but she loved trying.

She jumped out of bed, careful not to wake her roommates. Pulling up her nightgown, she slipped on her slippers and headed straight to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, as she had been doing more often lately. She still looked very much like a child. Her fifteen-year-old roommates were already talking about dating and noticing changes in their bodies that Olivia hadn’t seen in hers yet. She didn’t give it much importance and kept brushing her teeth.

When she returned to the room, she knew she would have to wake her friends up, or Sister Catherine would come in annoyed.

“Emma, wake up! It’s baking day, come on!” she said, tugging at one of her legs.

“Leave me alone, Oli, I don’t want to go,” Emma mumbled sleepily.

“Of course,”Olivia thought,“they spent all night talking about boys and now they can’t get up.”

As Olivia finished putting on her uniform, Sister Catherine appeared. Her calm steps only meant the yelling was about to begin.

“Emma! Always glued to the pillow. Up, now!” the sister exclaimed. Startled, Emma fell straight to the floor.

Olivia walked past her, smiling with a little“I told you so”and a playful wink before following Sister Catherine.

Her classmates said she was too obedient with the nuns, but Olivia didn’t care. It was her way of being grateful for being accepted, sponsored, and cared for—far away from the foster homes she had known until she was six. In the convent, she was happy. And every morning she woke up only confirmed it.

“Oli, wait for me!” she heard from behind. Olivia barely turned and saw Emma running toward her, her backpack half hanging off her shoulder.

“Do you always have to make such a fuss to get up?” she asked, smiling. “I hope you brought the biology notes, right?”

Emma paled.

“Oli, please, share yours. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll embroider whatever you want in the workshop—you know I’m good at it,” Emma begged as she hurried along.

Olivia smiled and agreed. Emma had arrived at the convent a year after she did, and they had been inseparable ever since.

In the distance, they spotted a tall boy holding a bag. It was Owen, the baker’s son, who attended their same school. The sisters often hinted they made a cute couple ever since, back in second grade, Olivia had given him a drawing of the two of them cooking together. She didn’t remember it, but the nuns made sure to bring it up every chance they got.

“Hi, Emma. Oli,” Owen greeted, glancing sideways at Olivia. “I brought some sandwiches for lunch.”

Olivia thanked him as they kept walking. The school was only a block away from the convent. Right before entering, she suddenly remembered she had forgotten to pick up Miss Song’s birthday present: a bouquet she had ordered from Mrs. Rene’s flower shop.

“Guys, excuse me, I’ll be back in ten minutes. I forgot Ms. Song’s gift,” she said as she ran in the opposite direction.

After dodging honking cars, being chased by two dogs, and stumbling several times, she finally arrived.

“Mrs. Rene, sorry I’m late. I hope the flowers are ready,” she said with a tired smile.

“Of course, Oli. Here they are. Business is tough lately, so I really appreciate your support,” the woman replied. Olivia couldn’t help but think how lonely she must feel—without her husband, with her children living in the city, Mrs. Rene was practically alone in St. Francisville.

“I’ll come by later for tea, if you don’t mind. It’s baking day at the convent, so I’ll bring you some cookies.”

She said goodbye quickly. She had barely ten minutes before the school doors closed. She stopped for a moment to put her wallet away. As she turned abruptly, she bumped into something.

Or rather, into someone.

She fell to the ground, her flowers scattering around. Her first instinct was to pick them up before anyone stepped on them. Clumsily crawling, she gathered the flowers and only then looked up.

Cold, blue eyes stared at her in silence. He didn’t offer a hand to help her up. He didn’t apologize. Just the stare—and silence.

The boy was tall, much taller than her, though he didn’t seem much older. Dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, giving him a messy but striking look.

Olivia stood up awkwardly, trying to fix the bouquet.

“Sorry, I was in a hurry and didn’t see you,” she said, addressing him informally without thinking.

Nothing. Silence.

She started to feel uncomfortable. With a slight nod, she quickly walked away. She couldn’t afford to be late.

In the distance, the boy kept watching her until she disappeared from sight.

________________________________________________________________________________

The school day went by quickly. The noise coming from the kitchen made it hard for Olivia to focus on the recipe’s measurements. She had always had a bad memory; maybe that’s what made cooking the most difficult for her.

That Tuesday, they were baking for the community dinner, where people without a meal came to the convent to eat. Olivia loved helping. She always thought about how lucky she was to have a roof over her head, warm clothes, and food.

When the bread rolls came out of the oven, she put a few in her bag and quickly headed out. She had promised Mrs. Rene to bring her some and didn’t want to break her word. As she crossed the courtyard, Sister Catherine asked her to stop by the market to pick up some vegetables and handed her the bicycle to carry the bags.

Olivia didn’t like riding bikes. She considered herself clumsy and only used the bicycle as a cart for carrying things.

The afternoon passed with laughter and stories while visiting Mrs. Rene. She served her tea, juice, and even gifted her a fresh bouquet of flowers. Olivia loved flowers; they felt like small touches of kindness from life.

On her way back, she stopped at the greengrocer to finish the errand. While arranging the bags in the bicycle basket, she heard the first thunder. Looking up, she saw that it had started to rain heavily.

She sighed, fixed the bags as best she could, and started walking under the storm. The rain hit her face, the wind tossed her hair, and her wet clothes clung uncomfortably to her body.

Two blocks later, she heard whistles behind her. She decided to ignore them. Only five more blocks to the convent. But the footsteps kept getting closer.

She tried to get on the bike to go faster, but slipped on the wet pavement and fell hard to the ground. Her knee hurt, but she barely had time to stand up when three men surrounded her.

“Need some help, pretty?” one of them mocked. “It’s pretty late for a decent girl to be out here, isn’t it?”

Olivia stared at them, terrified, clutching Mrs. Rene’s flowers tightly. She looked around in desperation, but no one was nearby. She managed to stand, wiped some rain from her eyes, and tried to run.

“Where are you rushing to, kid?” another man shouted, grabbing her shoulders firmly. “Why don’t we have a little fun?”

“Please let me go... I’m just a girl,” Olivia begged, her voice shaking.

“Exactly,” the man said, stepping closer with a disgusting smile. “Let me teach you a bit about life.”

Olivia closed her eyes, feeling her heart pound. Her breathing burned her throat, her soaked skin was covered in goosebumps, and disgust froze her.

Across the street, in the shadows, a young man watched the scene. At first, he didn’t really care; the world was unfair — he knew that better than anyone.

But then he saw her.

The girl with the flowers. The one who had bumped into him earlier that afternoon.

She was trembling, soaked, cornered by the men. His stomach twisted. Without thinking much, he crossed the street decisively.

He approached the man holding her and knocked him down with a sharp kick.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved in things that don’t concern you, idiot!” another man yelled, lunging at him.

Olivia tried to crawl away, still in shock. The young man fought with calm precision, dodging blows almost automatically. He knew exactly where to hit to knock them down. Every move was sharp, fast, calculated.

After several minutes, the attackers, bruised and furious, ran off, still throwing insults and threats.

The boy turned and saw her still on the ground. He frowned.

Why didn’t she run?he thought.

Olivia was shaking as she tried to stand. Her eyes met his — the same blue eyes she had seen that afternoon.

Without a word, the boy picked up the bicycle and the scattered vegetables, placing them back into the basket.

“I’ll walk you,” he whispered, starting to walk alongside the bicycle. Then, noticing she hadn’t moved, he stopped. “Are you planning to stay there all night?”

Olivia flinched and slowly started walking behind him, keeping a safe distance. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t know why he had helped her. And, above all, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know where she lived. But she had no choice.

They walked the remaining four blocks in silence. The only sound was the rain hitting the pavement.

When they reached the convent gate, Olivia stopped.

“Thank you... this is my stop,” she whispered, barely audible, staring at the ground. “I don’t know how to thank you for your he—”

But before she could finish, the boy had already leaned the bicycle against the wall and was walking away.

Olivia stood still, the words caught in her throat.