Page 67 of Beautiful Ruins
“What about this one?”she ventured softly.
Her voice held no accusation.No judgment.Just interest.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
“That one,” I pointed out, “isn’t decorative.”
Her fingers paused, then resumed tracing.
“They’re not random,” she noted.“Your tattoos.”
“No.”
“What do they mean?”
I could’ve brushed it off.Given her something light or surface-level.But she deserved more than that.
“The ink came after what happened.To cover what was already there.”
She lifted her head slightly to look at me.“The scars?”
“Yes.”
Her hand flattened against my chest, warm and steady.
I swallowed once.
“There was an explosion.”The words felt distant.Like they belonged to another man.“It was meant for me.”
Her fingers stilled.
“It detonated with my wife inside.”
The air turned.I could feel her breathing change.
“She was pregnant,” I added.“Eight months.”
Silence fell between us.I couldn’t bring myself to look at her.If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d keep from breaking.
“I heard the blast before I understood what it was.The sound… it wasn’t just noise.It was deafening.Forceful.It hit your chest.Rattled your teeth.”
I could still feel it.The vibration.The heat.
“I ran.”My jaw tightened.“I didn’t think.I just ran.”
I remembered the way the air tasted—metal and gasoline.The way the world blurred at the edges as I closed the distance between myself and the car that was already engulfed in flames.
“I could see her through the flames.”
Izzy’s hand slid higher, resting over my heart.
“I tried to open the door.”
My voice thickened, but I didn’t stop.
“I burned my hands first.Then my arms.My side.I didn’t feel it at the time.I just kept pulling, trying to get her out.But it was too late.”
I shook my head.I could still hear the screaming.Not hers.Mine.
