The first videoposts within minutes. Someone with quick editing skills and a talent for narrative manipulation.
The clip opens mid-confrontation, cutting out any context. Just me, huge and angry, looming over Lacy while she looks frightened. Evan positioned protectively between us, the hero of the moment.
"Take your hand off her," my voice booms, sounding threatening without the explanation of what I was actually responding to.
Cut to me shaking off security, the gesture looking violent instead of defensive.
Cut to Lacy's stricken face, tears threatening.
The caption:Orc placement worker confronts ex-girlfriend at fundraiser. Is the integration program putting humans at risk?
Within an hour, it's everywhere.
#OrcAggression trends locally. Councilwoman Blair retweets it with commentary about "concerning patterns" and "public safety."
The comments section fills with exactly what you'd expect. Calls to end the placement program. Speculation about Lacy's judgment. Demands for my immediate removal from the city.
A few defend me, pointing out the edited nature of the clip. But they're drowned out by the chorus of voices who've been waiting for exactly this kind of ammunition.
My phone rings. Darius.
"Tell me you didn't."
"I did."
"Stone. Buddy. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't." I sink onto my couch, still wearing the stupid suit. "I saw them together and I just... reacted."
"You gave them exactly what they wanted. Proof that orcs can't control themselves. That we're dangerous." His frustration bleeds through the line. "Do you have any idea how much harder you just made this for everyone in the program?"
Guilt joins the anger. I hadn't thought about that. About all the other orcs trying to build lives here, who'll now face increased scrutiny because I couldn't manage my emotions for five minutes.
"I'll fix it."
"How? The video's out there. Blair's already calling for review hearings. You can't unfuck this, Stone."
He's right. I know he's right.
But knowing doesn't help.
After Darius hangs up, I sit in the dark, watching my phone light up with notifications I don't have the courage to read. Somewhere across the city, Lacy is probably doing the same thing. Dealing with the fallout of my spectacular failure to be the person she needs me to be.
I pull out my notebook. The one where I write terrible poetry that no one's supposed to see.
Tried to fit / Tried to shrink / Tried to smooth the rough edges / Into something palatable / But rage is honest / Even when love isn't / And I burned us both / With truth told wrong
My phone rings one more time.
Lacy.
We need to talk. Tomorrow. My place.
I look at the message, dread pooling in my stomach.
This is where it ends. Where she chooses survival over the beautiful, impractical thing we built too fast and too carelessly.
I can't even blame her.
