Page 14 of Shadows Within (Millhaven #1)

Scarlett

I host a seminar in the library today. There’s only six of us, so we booked a secluded room in the back.

Usually, these meetings have more attendees, but as we get closer to exams, teacher’s assistants host smaller sessions to get more involved with their groups.

I’ve been a TA for different classes the last two semesters, and I love it.

This term, I got to choose my group, and thankfully there are no duds— as in, the students whose parents have lots of money, but they don’t really want to be here.

Lately, that feels like most, but this group is eager to learn.

They also ask great questions and that’s always a plus.

“Thanks Scarlett, see you next week,” Rachel, one of my peers, says on her way out.

I place my laptop in its bag and grab my things.

On late nights, I usually park in the garage across campus.

It’s not fully enclosed, but it’s covered.

Most importantly, I can access the garage without walking outside at night.

I text Dad as I make my way across campus and let him know that I’m leaving shortly.

I open the message from Callum. He never texted back after I said I was fine.

I push my phone back into the outside pocket of my bag.

Why did he text me in the first place? That thought has crossed my mind a couple of times this week.

The halls remain lit. I only pass a few people as I walk through. Most students don’t stay on campus late, usually it’s just TA’s, teachers, and the odd keener.

I make it to the first floor of the parking garage and take two flights of stairs up to my car. I can hear the rain from outside as I approach the third floor.

The garage is quiet, almost too quiet. As I cross the lot, a sudden loud thud breaks the silence.

A sharp bang and a cracking sound follow, coming from behind the pillars. I stop. My heart races. The noises repeat.

I stay still and debate if I should turn and run back for the stairwell or to my car, but something inside me remains curious. I know I shouldn’t, but I walk toward the noises.

Callum’s arms are up above his head, his palms pressing against the wall. His forehead rests against the concrete block. Blood runs down his right arm. His hands are scratched and red.

His shoulders are hunched, and his breathing is ragged. He looks like he’s been in a fight, yet there’s no one around. I assume he’s fighting himself.

He doesn’t hear me as I walk toward him.

“Callum?”

His body stiffens, like he doesn’t want anyone to see him.

“Didn’t know anyone was here.” He removes his forehead from the cool stone but doesn’t look to me.

I don’t want to push him. Seeing him like this feels like I’ve invaded a private moment that he wanted to conceal. Still, I can’t take my eyes off him.

“You should go,” his deep voice cracks.

I’ve seen this kind of rage—I live with it. I don’t pity it, I recognize it.

“I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

He pushes off the wall, his face stoic and expressionless, like he’s been wrestling a demon inside his head. His body looks tense and coiled. Finally, his eyes meet mine.

“You ever feel like it’s all just poison inside your chest and the only way to get it out is to bleed?”

His dark eyes captivate me, staring into my soul. He’s not being poetic—he’s telling the truth.

“More than I’d like to admit.”

Behind his rugged exterior, I want him to show me who he is. His gaze softens, breaking our eye contact as he looks into the distance. I glance up and notice some broken light bulbs.

“I thought I was the only one who parked up here.” He disturbs the silence.

“I always park up here when I host my late seminars. There wasn’t any parking on the main floor when I came in earlier today.”

“You shouldn’t park up here.” It’s not a suggestion.

I shrug and slowly walk toward him. He stands against a tall concrete barrier while I lean against his car, beside him. We sit in silence, but this time it’s shared and not awkward.

Callum looks down at his hands, running his fingers over his bleeding knuckles.

“Sometimes, I want to drive as fast as I can through a red light.” His voice is low and at first, I didn't realize he was talking to me. “Not because I want to die, just… to see what it feels like not to stop.”

My throat tightens and I don’t respond right away. I know that feeling. The urge to flirt with something, anything, to feel alive.

“You ever do it?” I ask.

Callum lets out a hollow, humorless laugh.

“Not yet.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “But I think about it more than I should.” Pain echoes deep in his eyes, below the surface. “Every time I push someone away, I think they’re better off. Let them hate me. Makes it easier when I finally fuck it up.” There’s tension in this pause.

“Then don’t fuck it up, Callum. Fight for what you believe in, instead of what they tell you.” He clenches his jaw.

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” he says sharply, like he’s trying to convince himself too.

“Too late.” My shoulders tense. Why did you answer, it was a hypothetical, you idiot. We hold eye contact. Something in me flickers. Maybe he’s afraid of me just as much as I’m afraid of him?

He pushes off the concrete barrier.

“I’m not someone you can fix, Scarlett.” He examines me as if he expects me to walk away, like he doesn’t know that I’m a fighter.

“Good. Because I’m not here to fix you.” He softly smiles, as if the answer surprises him but he doesn’t want to show it. It settles something in me.

I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I leave him standing there with those final words.

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk toward my car on the other side of the lot, but I don’t hear him move.

My pulse is tangled in his silence. When I’m almost at the car, I hear his quiet exhale, slow and controlled.

He doesn’t try and stop me, but he doesn’t leave either—maybe that means something.

Maybe broken doesn’t mean dangerous, maybe it just makes him human.

My chest no longer feels heavy. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not walking away to protect myself— I’m just walking away to breathe.