Kick.Everyone loved her.Even the worst of us.Especially the worst of us.Then she vanished.And the whole damn world dimmed.
Thud.I learned real fast that light gets stolen, and darkness survives.
Thud.Sava and I were built for that darkness.Born in it.Raised with our teeth bared and our backs to the wall.Two shadows moving like smoke.Monster and Machine.My sister in every way but blood.
Thud.We never miss a mark.Never leave a heartbeat uncounted.We make the Accord powerful.Feared.Untouchable.
Kick.And now a wide-eyed woman with too much sunshine in her voice is undoing me with a fucking text.Standing in that store, brushing my lips against Lindy’s cheek, I felt something crack.It isn’t her fault.It’s mine.
Thud.Because for the first time in my life, Iregretthe slit in my father's throat.Not because he didn’t deserve it.He did.But because that was the day I stopped being someone who could ever deserveher.
I throw one last punch—hard enough to rattle the chain and rip open the skin across my knuckles.Blood splatters the broken bag.
CRACK.
The bottom of the bag splits wide, sand spilling like blood, dark and slow.The hiss of it reminds me of a throat tearing open.That sound used to calm me.Now it just echoes.My hands drip.My chest heaves.I stand there, hands oozing at my sides, staring at the mess for answers.
But it doesn’t give any.
Because the answers will all lead back to her.And I was never meant for redemption.
I kill without flinching.But I don’t know how to hold a woman without shaking.
My knuckles drip red onto the floor.Sand’s spilling in slow motion like entrails torn loose.I don’t clean it.I don’t care.Let the basement bleed.Let the bag rot open like a body.
I strip off my shirt on the stairs, toss it aside, and head for the shower.By the time I reach the bathroom, the blood is already drying, smeared across my fingers like paint.Scalding water hits raw skin.It doesn’t sting enough.I scrub without flinching, watching diluted red swirl down the drain.My knuckles are raw, already swelling.Skin split in three places.And the split across my ring finger reopens, an old wound that I can’t seem to fully heal.My knuckles are still oozing, but they’ll crust over by morning, turn dark by day two.Tighten and itch by day three.Four days, maybe five, and the scabs will fall off.That’s if I don’t hit anything else.Unlikely.
I dry off, ignoring the sting.Pull on black sweats, no shirt.The ache in my hands throbs in time with my pulse, but it’s an expected pain that I’m used to.It’s the restlessness underneath that’s new.
On the counter, my phone buzzes.I thumb open the cam app to check my Lindy cameras.Two clicks and I’m in the grocery lot’s feed.I rewind until she steps out.Adrian hates this shit, but sets it up anyway, keeps refining the damn thing for me, even after telling me it's a horrible way to spend my time.He'll never bless my obsession, but he will keep building it, but with guardrails, so I don't burn the city down trying to do it on my own.That's big-brother math.
She’s holding a bag of flour and a carton of eggs.She looks… content.Like the moment didn’t rattle her.
She touches her cheek.The spot where I kissed her.I zoom in on her face.She’s smiling.The footage stutters, then skips.Adrian or Atlas must’ve noticed me watching and shut it down remotely.
Smart-asses.
Still, I grin.Because I saw what I needed to see.
Shelikedit.
The next morning, Adrian texts me a simple update.
Adrian:
Tint installed.
Thank you.
Adrian:
You’re welcome, stalker.
You jealous I finally care about someone who isn’t you?
Adrian:
Just try not to kill anyone over it.
