Rowena
Eric seemed to tense up at my question, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. For a long moment he was silent, almost like he was debating something internally.
“The scar on my shoulder?” he asked finally, an odd amount of hesitance lacing his tone. “Why do you want to see that old thing?”
I felt my cheeks growing warm under his scrutinizing gaze. Why did I want to see it? It was just an impulse, a strange urge sparked by the vivid visions I had had of a little boy’s face with blood dripping down his shoulder.
“I…” I began, then took a breath to steady myself. There was no point in lying. Not anymore. “When I hit my head, I had these flashes. Almost like visions, for lack of a better word.”
Eric quirked an eyebrow. “Visions?”
I nodded and conti
