Chapter 75 A Reminder Of His Past
Chapter 75 A Reminder Of His Past
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It had to be because she’d been caught off guard. What had taken her aback was the sight of Julius’s back, marked with scars. He didn’t look like the golden boy he was supposed to be. If anything, he looked like someone who’d been abused.
Abuse?
And from what little she had glimpsed, those scars didn’t seem new. They had been there for a long time.
Is it possible that he’d suffered those injuries as a child? Who would do that to a kid?
Without thinking, she blurted out, “Who did that to your back?”
“So you did see,” Julius replied, ignoring her question. “But are you upset? Over the scars?”
Oddly enough, hearing him say that calmed her down a bit.
If Julius had been hurt in the past, whoever had done it was probably long gone, or had already paid the price. He was Julius now, head of the Whitethorn family, not some powerless little boy.
“I was upset,” she admitted, “but it’s your personal business. I had no right to pry. I overstepped.”
Julius blinked slowly, then let go of her wrist. “All right,” he said, “go back to your room.”
Quinn stepped back into her room and shut the connecting door.
Julius walked toward the full–length mirror in his room. Turning his back to it, he tilted his head slightly, looking at the thick, raised scars that cut across his skin.
Those were the scars left behind from the lashings.
His father had been desperate to keep his mother from leaving, going so far as to try to tie her down with a child. But it hadn’t worked.
Even though he was their son, his presence hadn’t been enough to stop her from leaving.
So, his father took it out on him.
Each time she rejected him, Julius paid for it with another lash.
These scars could’ve been erased years ago with laser treatments. But he never had them removed. He kept them as a reminder. He would never let anyone hurt him like that again.
Night had fallen, and Quinn lay awake in bed, unable to sleep.
Tomorrow, she would be visiting the Bridger family’s ancestral hall–the same one her grandfather had fought so hard to protect.
It carried the hopes of the Bridger family.
Her grandparents‘ memorial tablets were there, too. She could still remember the few times her whole family had returned to Yarburn. Her father had brought her and her brother there to pay their respects.
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13:27 Mon, 7 Jul 4 0 G *
Chapter 75 A Reminder Of His Past
But this time, she would be walking into that ancestral hall alone.
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Once she found her brother, though, they would go together. They would kneel before their parents and grandparents and honor them as a family again.
Just then, a muffled, broken cry echoed from the room next door.
Did something happen to Julius?
Startled, Quinn got out of bed and pushed open the door that connected their rooms. His room was pitch dark, but the sounds were clearer now. The faint whimpers and gasps led her to his bed.
Her night vision was sharp from her military training. Even without a light, she could see clearly, Julius lay in bed, his eyes tightly shut, locked in a nightmare. He kept murmuring between gasps, like he was in pain.
Quinn stepped closer. “Julius,” she called softly.
He didn’t wake up. Instead, he kept muttering in a strained voice. “It hurts… it hurts so much… stop hitting me… I’ll be good… I’ll behave…”
Quinn froze. She couldn’t believe those words had just come out of his mouth. Even in a dream.
What is he dreaming about?
She couldn’t help thinking again about the scars.
Flicking on the bedside lamp, she saw that his face was drenched in sweat. He was clearly suffering. “Julius Whitethorn!” she said more firmly, reaching out to touch his face and check his temperature.
But as soon as her fingers brushed his skin, his hand clamped tightly around her wrist. It all happened so fast, she didn’t even have time to react. Just as she was about to pull away, his broken voice whispered, “Don’t… leave me…”
Quinn stopped. She didn’t move. She just let him hold her hand, his grip tight and desperate.
His breathing gradually steadied, and the pain on his face slowly faded. Since one hand was locked in his, she reached with the other for a tissue from the box on his nightstand and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead.
She had once believed Julius was like a frozen lake–calm, cold, and lifeless.
Yet, in that moment, he looked so fragile. Like a child who just needed someone to protect him.
After a while, his brow finally relaxed, and his breathing evened out. He’d fallen into a deep sleep. Quinn looked down at her wrist, still trapped in his grip. She tried gently to pull it free.
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