I Said I Fell While He Held My Bandaged Wrist Under Healing Light...

Foundation tower smelled like old paper and lemon cleaner. Warm light pooled across long board table, same amber as night room where he healed me, only brighter, flatter, meant to show everything.

I sat beside him. My wrist bare. Faint scar line caught light. No bandage now. He'd told me stop covering. I did.

Board member at head of table, woman in navy blazer, crest pin smaller than ours, gold rim same as his glasses. She flipped through incident report.

"Ms. Reyes, you claimed fall on parking lot steps," she said. "Nurse flagged laceration inconsistent with fall."

My hands stayed steady on table. His watch ticked left of me, dark strap, gold bezel catching amber. I remembered its time stamp narrowed window when cut happened. 9:42 p.m. I remembered glow.

I spoke. Past tense steady. I used his words verbatim because they were true.

"He said, 'This wound wasn't treated right. Let me see. You're an omega without a wolf spirit. Even if you heal fast, you still need medicine.' Later he said, 'This doesn't look like a fall. More like you got cut.'"

Silence held. Board member watched my face, not wound.

Attacker sat across table with her mother. Same vest, crest polished. Mother's hand rested on her shoulder, tight grip, not comfort. Control.

Mother spoke first. "My daughter bumped her in hallway. Accident. No blade. No intent. Reyes family misunderstands pack hierarchy. Omega sensitive."

Attacker stared at my scar. Micro-expression flickered. Jaw tight. No apology yet.

He spoke next to me, voice low. "Cut angle straight. Edge clean. Fall makes jagged tear, gravel embedded. This was blade, shallow, drawn across inner wrist. I healed it. White light left faint line. Glow memory clear."

Board member slid photos across table. Close-up of wound night he unwrapped gauze, bloody laceration before glow. Another after glow, smooth skin, faint line. Time stamps matched.

"Evidence supports cut," board member said. "Not fall."

Attacker mother leaned forward. "Expulsion would ruin her record. Foundation donors know our family. We fund crest scholarships. Leniency warranted."

Test. Influence against evidence.

Board member didn't blink. "Foundation tower governs crest privileges, not donor lists. Privilege requires conduct review."

I breathed. Slow inhale. I remembered night room, warm lamp, his hands holding my wrist palm-up, gentle hold, unwrapping gauze, revealing blood. I remembered fear I hid that night, fear stigma, fear being omega without wolf spirit meant no one believed me.

I added, "I lied about fall. Feared pack stigma. Feared no wolf spirit made me target. I hid cut to avoid exposure. He insisted on medicine despite glow healing. He was right. Fast heal not safe heal."

Board member nodded. Wrote notes.

Attacker finally spoke, quiet. "I used box cutter from art room. I wanted her to drop crest vest. She wouldn't. I pulled wrist. I didn't think blood would show so much."

Mother's grip tightened. Attacker flinched.

Board member closed file. "Acknowledged. Cut not fall. Attack confirmed."

She looked at both of us then attacker.

"Ruling: No expulsion. Restitution and education. Attacker loses crest privilege for semester, attends counseling, writes formal apology, does supervised service in nurse office learning wound care. Must understand medicine matters. Reyes receives foundation support for proper treatment costs, no record penalty for initial false report due to fear."

Incomplete justice. I felt relief and hollow at same time. Scar stayed. Privilege paused, not ended. Pack politics softened blow because family name still mattered.

Attacker mother pressed lips. "Accepted."

Attacker eyes met mine. No glow there. No gold-rimmed glasses. Only bare acknowledgement.

Board member stood. Light still warm, but contrast to night room now sharp. Night room held private healing. Tower room held public accounting. One hid wound, other named it.