Written in Their Scars

Beep Beep Beep!!!!!!!

The buzz of the alarm wasn’t just a sound; it was a vibration like a tuba that rattled Myra’s skull. She groaned, a hand flopping out from under the warm nest of her duvet to slap blindly at her nightstand. Her fingers found the edge of her phone, but instead of silencing the alarm, she sent the device skittering across the wood. It was immediately followed by the sickening slosh and crash of her water glass.

“Shit,” she muttered, bolting upright. The phone’s screen lit up, not with the alarm, but with a picture of her mother. Of course!

Myra snatched the phone just as it was about to take a dive into the newly formed puddle on her floor. She swiped to answer, tucking it between her ear and shoulder as she swung her legs out of bed. They landed with a squelch. She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally screaming at the soggy carpet now clinging to her foot.

“Hey, Mom,” she said, trying to inject a level of cheerfulness into her voice that she was miles away from feeling.

“Myra, dear. Don’t tell me I woke you.” Her mother’s voice was warm, but it held the familiar, all-knowing that said she already knew the answer. For a petite woman in her fifties, Mrs. Catrina Jacobs had the intuition of a seasoned detective.

“Nope. Up and at ‘em,” Myra lied, peeling her wet sock off with a scowl.

A soft chuckle came through the speaker. “Liar. Now, listen, sleepyhead. It’s your last exam. You need to be sharp. And don’t forget your train leaves at seven tonight. You can’t be late for that workshop.”

“I remember, Mom. I promise.” Myra’s gaze drifted to the single packed suitcase sitting by her door. It looked small and insignificant, yet it held the entire next stage of her life. “I’ll ace the exam, and I’ll be ready. It’s all part of the plan.”

“Good girl. Well, for that plan to work, you need to actually get moving. Stop fiddling around. I’m so proud of you, Myra.”

A genuine smile finally touched Myra’s lips. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, dear. Now go!”

The call ended. Myra tossed her phone onto the safety of her bed and padded, one-socked, to the bathroom. She stared at the girl in the mirror. The girl with unruly dark brown hair, a slim frame that still held the curves of a woman, and eyes the colour of rich chestnuts. Her college mates called her a borderline nerd, and she didn’t really disagree. While they were chasing parties and fleeting romances, Myra was chasing a different kind of dream.

It was a simple, average dream. Finish college, get a good job, find a nice guy, and settle down behind a white picket fence with two kids and a puppy. That’s all she’d ever wanted. Growing up an only child to two wonderfully loving parents had made her crave a bustling family of her own. This workshop was just the next logical step toward that stable, predictable future.

After a quick shower, she pulled on her favourite pair of worn-in jeans and a comfy striped t-shirt, grabbed an apple from the kitchen, and ran out the door.

Her campus was only two blocks away, a walk she’d made a thousand times. Halfway there, a familiar voice called her name.

“Kiddo! Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?”

Myra turned, an apple-filled grin spreading across her face. Mathew. He’d been her best friend since she was three, practically attached at the hip. He was a year older, but his protective vibe made the gap feel wider. As he fell into step beside her, she noticed the usual gaggle of girls across the street slow their pace, their eyes glued to him. Myra couldn't blame them. At six-foot-two, with a lean, muscular build, tanned skin, and eyes so blue they seemed unreal, Mathew was a walking supermodel ad. The fact that he was also a brilliant assistant professor—staying on for an extra year just to see her through college—only added to the campus-wide crush.

“Ha! Like I have a choice,” Myra said after swallowing her bite of apple. “Mom will have my head if I don’t ace this on the first try.”

Mathew adjusted his glasses, looking down at her with that fond, loving expression that always made her feel safe. “You’ll be fine, Myra. You always are. You got into that exclusive workshop without breaking a sweat. This exam is just a piece of cake.”

“Only you know how to cheer me up, Matt,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.

They arrived at her exam hall all too quickly. She stood at the door, turning to face him. “Anyway,” she sighed, “here goes nothing.”

Mathew’s smile turned into a confident smirk. “Go make ‘em wish they were as smart as you.”

He watched her disappear into the room before turning to head toward his own lecture, the smirk never leaving his face.

Author’s Note:

Hey guys,

Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Written in Their Scars"! This is my first time writing in the supernatural genre, and I’m so excited to take you on this journey with Myra. It’s definitely harder to write a story than it is to read one, so I feel like I'm taking my own big exam right alongside her.

Please leave your lovely comments and let me know what you think!

P.S. What are your first impressions of Mathew? 😉