Behind Blue Eyes

Vi thought Caitlyn was gone, yet the lack of the door closing told her otherwise; Caitlyn was still there, holding it open.

Vi took a steadying breath, gripping the edge of her tank top as if that could somehow protect her. She reminded herself of the plan: Haul ass to her room, take a shower, and avoid being seen.

Not that avoiding people was really an option anymore.

The subtle shift behind the bar, the faint hiss of a tap shutting off, told her she already had an audience.

‘Shit.’

Still, she pushed forward, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks,” as she moved past Caitlyn. Her left hand trailed against the familiar walls, fingertips brushing over aged wood as she navigated her way down the back. 

She barely made it three steps before Vander’s voice cut through the low murmur of the bar.

“Vi.”

That was all. No anger. No disappointment. Just her name, spoken in that gruff, tired way of his.

She almost stopped.

Almost.

But Caitlyn’s voice came next, smooth and steady. “Vander, if I may have a word?”

Vi didn’t hesitate.

‘Bless you, Cait,’ she thought fleetingly, using the moment of distraction to pick up her pace.

Her grip on the stair’s railing was firm as she descended into the basement. One step at a time. Careful, hurried all at once. She didn’t need another reason for Vander to come checking in on her.

When she finally stepped into her room and shut the door behind her, Vi exhaled a breath of relief.

‘Made it.’

Caitlyn had bought her time. Enough time to prepare, to pull herself together before she had to face whatever awaited her upstairs.

Without wasting another second, Vi reached for the hem of her tank top and peeled it off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere in the room. It hit the floor with a dull thump, but she didn’t care. Next were her briefs, just as easily discarded.

The real challenge was the bindings around her chest.

Her fingers skimmed over the tightly wrapped fabric, searching for the tucked-in edge. When she found it, she began to unravel it slowly. One spin. Two. The tension loosened with each pass until the cloth finally fell, coiling at her feet like a discarded second skin.

For a brief moment, she breathed.

Being naked was a strange thing for Vi.

She loved it. And she hated it.

She loved the sensation of openness, the way her skin reacted to the environment around her. The cool air against her arms, the slight dampness clinging to the underground stone; it made her aware of herself in a way few other things did.

But she hated what she could feel about herself.

Her left hand traced down her side, brushing over scar tissue she had long since memorized. The burned flesh was thick and uneven, desensitized in some areas, too tight in others.

She knew what it looked like.

She had spent years running her fingers over the ridges, the dips, the places where the fire had taken more than just skin.

Her scars weren’t pretty.

But they were hers. How Caitlyn thought she was perfect was beyond her. 

Vi clenched her jaw and shook the thoughts away before they could drag her under.

There were bigger things to deal with, like trying to survive the night. 

She turned toward the small shower nook in the center of her room, fully intending to step inside, but a tight pull at her foot made her freeze.

‘Shit.’

The bandage.

Vi sighed heavily and lowered herself onto the cool concrete floor.

Her fingers found the edges of the wrapping, and with the same careful patience as before, she began to unwind it.

Round by round, until she was finally free.

She pushed herself off the ground and made her way to the shower, each step slow. Her body ached from tension, her muscles tight from exhaustion; not just physical, but mental. She could still feel the ghost of Caitlyn’s touch on her skin, the warmth of her embrace lingering like an unspoken promise. It made her hesitate for a fraction of a second before she turned the knob, letting the water cascade down from the rusted pipes above.

She tested it with her fingers first, rolling her wrist beneath the stream. Not too hot, not too cold, just the right balance, the way she liked it. With a quiet exhale, she stepped inside, letting the warm water hit her shoulders and run down her back. She didn’t bother closing the curtain behind her; no one ever came down here uninvited. At least, they weren’t supposed to.

Vi let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as the steam curled around her. She stood there for a long moment, simply feeling; feeling the sweat, the grime, the weight of the day wash away. It was like peeling away the layers of everything that had clung to her since the moment she walked into the bar that afternoon.

Her fingers found the bar of soap easily, the familiarity of the shape pleasing her. She started at her hair, working the lather through the short strands before moving downward. Scrubbing at her shoulders, her arms, her torso, careful around her scars, though the dull sensation of them never truly left. The moment her fingertips brushed over the ridges of damaged skin, she swallowed hard, pushing past the feeling.

Her mind wandered as her hands continued their practiced movements. Vander. The vials. Shimmer. 

He knew.

Not everything, maybe. But enough to make her stomach twist.

She could lie. Say the vials weren’t hers. Say they were Powder’s; ‘no, that wouldn’t work.’ Vander would never believe that. Powder had no reason to leave her work here, in her space of all places.

The truth was an option, too. The truth was simple.

But Vi had been hiding from it for so long that it felt like a stranger.

She exhaled through her nose, pressing her forehead against the cool tile. The water trickled down the back of her neck, soothing the heat there. She reached up and dragged her hands over her face before moving lower, scrubbing the last of the soap from her skin.

Her fingers brushed against the shell of her ear, and she stilled.

The blood.

She’d almost forgotten about it. A habit at this point. Her headaches had been happening long enough that she didn’t even react anymore when the telltale trickle started from her ears. It wasn’t concerning. Not really.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

She wiped at the area, making sure the dried remnants were gone before rinsing off the last traces of soap. Finally, she was clean. Finally, she smelled like herself again; not sweat, not alley filth, not Caitlyn’s coat lingering on her skin longer than it should have.

Just as she reached for the knob to shut off the water, a loud, “Violet!” rang through the confined space.

Vi flinched so hard she nearly lost her footing, her hands slamming against the tile walls to steady herself. “The fuck, Powder!” she snapped, breath still caught in her throat. “You could’ve killed me!”

Powder huffed loudly from just beyond the entrance. The sheer force of her irritation was palpable even through the curtain of steam. “And whose fault would that be, huh?”

Vi scowled, regaining her balance as she twisted the knob, cutting off the water. She shook herself violently like a stray dog, sending droplets flying in every direction. A petty, spiteful little part of her hoped Powder got hit with them.

“Uhh, yours, obviously,” Vi muttered as she shoved past her sister, barely grazing her shoulder on the way out.

Powder was undeterred. She followed immediately, voice layered with frustration. “Oh please, don’t act like you didn’t know I’d come straight here when you got back.”

Vi ignored her, dragging her hands through her damp hair as she made her way toward the crate near the closet. She crouched, feeling around for a shirt, any damn shirt, while Powder kept going.

“What the hells were you thinking running off like that? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if the Sheriff didn’t find you?”

Vi found the fabric she was looking for and gripped it tightly, trying to tamp down the rising irritation.

“The silent treatment… Real mature, Vi,” Powder said, her voice climbing. “Do you even understand what you put us through? What you put me through?”

Vi stayed silent, her jaw locking as she clenched the fabric in her fists.

Powder’s voice cracked. “That move was incredibly selfish of you.”

‘Selfish.’

Vi’s entire body went still.

Her fingers twitched where they gripped the shirt, the tension so strong it sent a tremor through her hands.

Selfish.

Vi had spent her whole damn life putting Powder first. Being there for her. Taking the blame. Being her practice dummy for whatever project she was working on. Taking every single goddamn thing the world threw at them so Powder didn’t have to.

And now, after everything, after years of surviving, of scraping by, of clawing her way back to find even an ounce of herself, she was selfish?

Something inside her snapped.

Vi barely registered the movement before she hurled the shirt in Powder’s general direction, her voice rising with unfiltered frustration. “I’m selfish?! That is complete and utter bullshit!” She wasn’t just mad, she was livid. A fire burned in her chest, searing through her veins, threatening to consume every rational thought she had left. She didn’t care if the people upstairs could hear her.

‘Let them.’

“Are you seriously telling me that you’ve never needed space? That you’ve never wanted to escape for a while?” Vi jabbed a finger in Powder’s direction, her breath ragged, her body thrumming with barely-contained rage. “Are you saying you’ve never needed to just…” She clenched her fists, trying to put the feeling into words. “Breathe?”

“It’s not-” Powder started, but Vi cut her off before she could finish.

“Don’t you fucking dare say it’s not the same.” Vi’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl, her hands trembling with fury. “Because I swear to every goddamn thing out there, Powder, I will beat the shit out of you.”

Powder’s breath hitched, barely audible, but Vi caught it. She ignored it. She was past the point of holding back, past the point of worrying about how her words would land.

Still breathing hard, Vi turned back toward the crate, digging through it until her fingers found a pair of sweatpants. The fabric bunched in her grip, grounding her even as the anger continued to roll through her.

“Everyone else gets to let off steam,” she muttered, her voice lower now, the sharp edge still there but laced with pain. “Everyone else gets to go wherever they want, whenever they want. So why not me?”

There was a pause. A hesitation from Powder before she finally responded.

“Because… you aren’t like everyone else.”

Vi froze.

Slowly, she turned her head toward her sister, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t think I fucking know that?” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed through it, reaching up and pointing toward her own face. “You don’t think I feel that? Every. Single. Day?”

Powder didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to.

Vi inhaled sharply, shaking her head as she fought against the burn in her throat. “It’s because of Vander. Because of the others.” Her voice wavered for the first time. “Because of you.”

Powder sucked in a breath, and Vi could practically feel her flinch at the words.

“That I feel like a fucking lame dog that has to be watched  and leashed at all times.” Vi’s voice wasn’t loud anymore. It wasn’t even angry. It was just… tired.

She shook her head again, feeling her emotions clawing at her chest, trying to escape. She blinked rapidly, willing the sting in her eyes to fade. Her fingers clenched tighter around the fabric of her sweatpants before she finally sat on the cold concrete and yanked them on.

Beside her, Powder took a hesitant step forward.

“I didn’t know that’s how you felt,” she murmured.

Vi let out a short, bitter laugh, standing up as she adjusted her waistband. “Of course, you didn’t,” she muttered. “I never told you, but I shouldn’t have had to.”

Powder’s silence was louder than any response she could have given.

Vi sighed, rubbing the back of her damp hair before speaking again. “You’re the genius, Powder. You should’ve seen what you were doing to me.”

The words landed hard, and Vi knew it.

She took another breath, gathering herself before pressing on. “I’m terrified to go outside.” The issue was it wasn’t a confession of a hidden secret, everyone close to her knew. “And the funniest part?” She let out another humorless laugh. “You guys made me that way.”

She heard Powder’s boots scuff against the floor, heard the way she shifted.

But Vi wasn’t done.

“The real kicker?” she continued, her voice quieter now but no less pointed. “It took an Enforcer, a fucking Enforcer, for me to realize what you all did to me.” She let the words settle, let them sink into Powder’s skin like ice. “Today was the first time since my accident that I truly felt safe outside.” A pause. A deep breath. And then, the final blow.

“No thanks to any of you.”

Silence.

Heavy. Breathtaking. Hurtful. 

Vi didn’t move. She let her words hang in the air, unchallenged, undeniable.

Then, she heard it.

A sniffle.

Vi clenched her jaw, her fingers twitching at her sides.

Powder was crying.

A knot formed in Vi’s stomach. She hated hearing Powder cry. Hated being the reason for it even more.

Those tears were Vi’s biggest weakness and it was unfair. Because nothing she said was wrong. It was her family’s fault she feared so damn much. Or they re-enforced them at least. 

She exhaled, shaking her head before reaching a hand out. “Pow… can you hand me the shirt I threw at you?”

A beat of hesitation.

Then, soft footsteps.

Vi felt the fabric press into her hands, and she frowned slightly. ‘Did she actually hit her? Not bad for someone who couldn’t see.’

“Don’t move, okay?” she murmured.

Powder sniffled again but choked out, “Okay.”

Vi nodded, tugging the shirt over her head and adjusting it.

Then, without another word, she reached forward, finding Powder’s shoulders with both hands.

She pulled her sister into a tight hug, and the moment she did, Powder latched onto her like she was afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Powder whispered, over and over again, her voice muffled against Vi’s shoulder.

Vi closed her eyes, resting a hand on the back of her sister’s head, holding her close.

“I know,” she murmured.

Vi blindly reached out to her left, her fingertips grazing the smooth wooden surface of the closet doors. They were opened. 

‘Thank Janna.’

Powder clung to her, her small body trembling slightly as she sobbed into Vi’s shoulder. Vi held her tighter, rocking her gently, shifting her movements just enough to subtly reposition them. Powder didn’t even notice as Vi slowly maneuvered her until her back was directly facing the closet.

“Let it out, Pow-Pow,” Vi whispered against her sister’s ear, her voice soft, comforting.

As she soothed her, Vi’s hands moved deliberately, tracing up Powder’s back before sliding forward over her shoulders, palms pressing lightly against her chest. The embrace was warm, reassuring.

And it was a distraction.

“I love you,” Vi whispered, her breath tickling Powder’s ear. “And I’m sorry.”

Before Powder could react, Vi gave her a gentle but firm push, shoving her backward into the open closet. The movement was so smooth, so unexpected, that Powder barely had time to gasp before she was inside.

Vi slammed the doors shut, gripping both handles and pulling them tight together. Thinking fast, she dropped down, leaning her back against the doors. She felt around with her bare foot for her discarded chest wrap. Powder immediately reacted, pounding against the wood.

“What?! Hey, let me out!” Powder yelled, shoving against the barrier. But with Vi’s weight bracing the doors shut, they didn’t budge.

Vi finally hooked her toe around the wrap and dragged it toward her hand, snatching it up. “Nope, you’re staying right there,” she said matter-of-factly, already looping the cloth around the handles above her head. 

“Vi! Seriously?” Powder shouted, shaking the doors, her fists thumping against the panels.

Vi tightened the knot, pulling the wrap as taut as possible. Powder continued to struggle, but the more she fought, the more secure the makeshift binding became. Satisfied, Vi pressed her hands lightly against the closet, feeling the vibrations of her sister’s efforts.

‘Yep. That’ll hold.’

Now that Powder was secured, Vi took a deep breath, stood up, and turned toward her bed, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Violet! Let me out!” Powder begged, her voice a mix of irritation and disbelief.

Vi ignored her, still grinning. This was perfect. She had promised herself she’d lock Powder in a closet for all the teasing about Caitlyn, and well… Powder had walked right into it.

Vi sat down on the edge of her bed, reaching for her boots. She pulled the first one on and started lacing it. “Pow, there’s something I need to talk to  about with you, and I really need you to listen and understand, okay?”

A pause.

Then, a quiet, hesitant, “Vi…”

“Just shut up and listen,” Vi interrupted, tugging the laces tight before starting on the next boot.

She didn’t hear any movement from the closet now.

 ‘Good.’

Vi took a steadying breath, her smile gone. “I’ve never blamed you for what happened to me that morning.” She knew she didn’t need to elaborate; Powder’s hitched breath told her she knew exactly what morning Vi was referring to.

“You need to stop blaming yourself for something you didn’t do.” Vi’s voice was firm, unwavering. “I was the one who got us into that apartment. I was the one who stood there and took the blast.” She pulled at her laces harder than necessary, as if the pressure in her hands could ground her, keep her from getting lost in the memory. “And guess what?”

She didn’t expect Powder to answer.

“I don’t regret it. Not for a single damn second,” Vi said with conviction. “Because if I hadn’t done what I did, if I hadn’t taken the hit, Mylo, Claggor.” She swallowed, pausing as she clenched her jaw. “You… could have been hurt. And that?” She exhaled sharply. “That’s something I could never live with.”

Silence.

Vi stood, her boots now firmly laced, and moved back toward the closet.

“I know we’ve had this conversation a thousand times,” she continued, voice softer now. “And every time, you brush it off. You keep carrying a guilt that was never yours to begin with.”

She lifted a hand and pressed it lightly against the door.

“Everything that happened that day? It was on me, Powder. Not you.” Vi leaned forward, resting her forehead against the wood, listening. “Please, Pow-Pow promise me you’ll let it go. If I can start to… then someone as smart as you can too.”

A shaky breath. A long pause.

Then, barely above a whisper, “I promise.”

Vi sighed, stepping back and nodding to herself. “Good,” she said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Powder sniffled, voice thick with multiple emotions.

Vi could picture her on the other side, hands curled into fists, head resting against the door just as Vi’s had been. She could almost see her blue hair sticking to her damp cheeks, those wide, expressive eyes filled with tears.

Then, after a moment, Powder cleared her throat. “So… are you gonna let me out now?”

Vi laughed, shaking her head. “Nope.”

“What?! Vi, come on…”

“Oh, I know you promised,” Vi smirked, turning toward the her bedroom door. “But I didn’t just put you in there for that conversation. This is also my revenge for your damn teasing about Cait.”

A beat of silence. Then-

“Oooooh, Cait now?”

Vi snorted. “Yep. That just earned you more time.”

“Vi, you can’t be serious!”

Vi reached for her doorknob, pulling it open. “Be back in a few.”

“VI!”

She shut the door behind her, grinning as she headed upstairs.

The more steps Vi took, the more her smile began to fade. She had handled Powder. Though handled might be a stretch, but the real challenge was ahead.

Vander.

Vi clenched her jaw, inhaling through her nose. She hoped, at the very least, that he wouldn’t outright kill her. That would be a tragic way to go. Powder would die alone in a locked closet, and the guilt might be enough to send everyone off the deep end.

Morbid humor aside, Vi wasn’t ready for this. Not really. But the longer she hesitated, the worse it would get.

She stepped past the threshold and paused, listening.

The bar wasn’t cleared out. That was something. If Vander planned on scolding her, it wouldn’t be in front of everyone, he would’ve shut down business first. It was a small relief, but a relief nonetheless.

Her stomach twisted, though, because that meant only one thing.

He was going to wait until they were alone.

If he tried to take her to the damn bridge again, she might just throw herself over it before he could get a word out.

“Over here,” Vander’s voice came from behind the bar, calm but measured.

‘Good sign.’

Or he was just really good at faking it.

Vi turned her head toward him but made no move to approach. Her feet were practically glued to the floor.

A sigh. Then, “Powder, man the bar for a few?” He paused, clearly scanning the room for her.

Vi kept her expression unreadable. He didn’t need to know where Powder was at the moment.

“…Okay then. Claggor, take over.”

She heard Claggor push himself up from a table, his chair scraping against the floor as he took his place behind the counter.

Then Vander’s steps retreated toward the stairs. “This way, Vi. We’re going upstairs.”

No room for discussion. He didn’t wait for a response, his heavy footfalls already ascending.

Vi’s fingers flexed at her sides. She would much rather take her chances at the bridge again now. 

But she didn’t have a choice. It was time. 

Swallowing thickly, she finally moved, her fingers ghosting along the familiar walls as she navigated past the storage room.

Then she found the base of the stairs.

Vi lingered at the bottom, one hand gripping the worn railing. She listened carefully, waiting for a sign, a shift in tone, something to gauge Vander’s mood.

Nothing.

He had already gone inside.

Vi inhaled deeply, exhaling through her nose, steadying herself.

Then, one step at a time, she climbed.

Once Vi reached the threshold of Vander’s room, she hesitated again. It had been years since she’d stepped foot inside. The memories were there, she knew the general layout. But had anything changed? Would she still be able to navigate the space, or had time reshaped it into something unfamiliar?

She wet her lips, pushing down the lump forming in her throat. “Did you…” She swallowed, voice quieter now. “Did you change your room?”

Vander didn’t ask for an explanation. He knew why she was asking.

“No,” he answered simply. “Sit on the bed. It’s still in the middle.”

Vi nodded and stepped forward, feeling out her way until her knees bumped against the edge of the mattress. She lowered herself down slowly, sinking into the plush comforter. The fabric was softer than she remembered, smoother beneath her fingertips. Almost instinctively, her hands ghosted over it, tracing the stitching, feeling the weight of the blankets.

It was nice.

Her knee started bouncing, an old nervous habit she hadn’t even realized had returned until she felt Vander move. The scrape of wood against the floor signaled him pulling his desk chair closer. Then, without a word, he sat down in front of her.

The silence between them was suffocating.

Vi hated this.

The thick, unspoken tension, the weight of his unasked questions hanging in the air, it made her want to bolt. But she wouldn’t be the first to speak. Not this time. She needed to know what he knew before she figured out whether to lie, make excuses, or tell the truth.

Then Vander’s hand came down, firm but not forceful, pressing gently against her bouncing knee.

Vi flinched, but he didn’t move away.

“How’s your foot?” he asked, voice low.

Vi blinked, caught off guard. Her foot? ‘Oh. Caitlyn must’ve told him something about how she found me.’

“Fine,” she muttered. “Just a scratch.”

Vander exhaled, a slow and measured sound. “Alright. It seems to me that you’re unwilling to talk first, so I’ll go.”

Vi huffed, shifting on the bed. “Yep.”

She knew she was being childish. She could feel it. The anger from earlier was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but without Powder crying in front of her, without that raw vulnerability to defuse her temper, it had nowhere to go.

Vander let her response hang for a moment before speaking again. “Why do you need the coins?” His voice was steady, probing but not accusing yet. “You don’t pay for food or board, so that can’t be it.”

Vi swallowed, already feeling the walls closing in.

Vander continued, his deep voice rolling with the weight of his own thoughts. “Your clothes, those are either bought by me or Powder. So I’ll ask again, why do you need the coins?”

Vi clenched her jaw.

‘That’s what this is about?’

She had expected him to start with the vials, to interrogate her about those. Instead, he was focused on something so… simple.

Fine. She’d give him the truth on this one.

“I want to move out.”

She didn’t soften the words. Didn’t give him any cushion to absorb the impact. Just let them settle, sharp and solid, into the space between them.

Vander’s hand lifted from her knee.

Not because he was angry.

Not because he was upset.

But because he was shocked.

Vi almost smirked. ‘Didn’t expect that one, did ya, old man?’

“You…” Vander cleared his throat, voice suddenly heavier. “You want to move out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

That single word carried so much weight. So much uncertainty.

Vi exhaled slowly. “Because I need to.”

Vander was struggling to process her words. She could hear it in his breathing, in the small shift of his chair as he leaned forward slightly.

Vi felt her fingers tighten into the comforter.

This was always the problem, wasn’t it? She was the oldest of all the kids Vander had raised, and yet she was still here. Still stuck. She had been grateful for everything he’d done for her, for the life he’d given her after their parents died, but at some point, this place had stopped being a home and started feeling more like a cage.

She didn’t mind working at the bar. Didn’t even mind the routine of it. But living here? Always being under the same roof? It had begun to feel uncomfortable.

Why was it so hard for them to see that?

Why couldn’t they understand that she needed to be independent?

She had spent years saving up, planning for this. Even if it was just an apartment across Main Street, at least it would be hers. At least then, she’d have a real reason to step outside, to force herself past the fear, to stop being trapped inside the safety of these walls.

Vander still wasn’t saying anything.

Vi turned her head slightly in his direction, knowing full well that he was staring at her. That he was probably searching for some kind of deeper meaning in her words, trying to figure out if this was just frustration talking or if she truly meant it.

She did.

she really meant it.

Vander was going to have to accept that.

“Violet, you don’t know what it’s like to live on your own. It’s nothing like living here.”

Vander’s voice was firm, but not unkind. It held years of experience, of knowing what lay beyond the safety of these walls.

Vi didn’t yell. She was too exhausted for that. But the frustration in her voice was unmistakable. “You let the others leave to live their own lives. Why not me?”

Vander exhaled. “Why not you?” He shakes his head in disbelief and disappointment. She couldn’t see the devastation on his face, “Okay, you want to be treated like the others?”

There was a shuffling sound, followed by a heavy thud as something was placed into her lap. Vi immediately knew what it was before she even felt the weight of it. The unmistakable sound of glass clinking together made her stomach sink.

‘Fuck. Here we go.’

Her fingers brushed over the surface of the box, confirming her suspicion.

He knows.

“What are those?” Vander’s voice was barely held together. “And Vi, don’t you dare lie to me.” He wasn’t yelling, but his tone was razor-sharp, cutting straight through the air between them.

Vi swallowed, her throat dry. She had expected this, had known this moment would come the second she realized he had been in her room. But no amount of expectation made her ready for it.

So she did the next best thing to actually answering his question.

“You went into my room after I left.” It wasn’t an accusation, it was a fact. She heard him last night, the distinct creak of the closet door closing, but she had ignored it. When she shoved Powder in earlier, the door had been opened. He had searched her room. Vi may be blind, but she wasn’t stupid.

“You had no right.”

Vander didn’t miss a beat. “I had every right.” His voice was steady, unyielding. “The moment I found those, you lost my trust.”

Vi recoiled, as if he had struck her. ‘Lost his trust?’

That cut deeper than she had expected.

‘Fine.’ If he wanted to go that way, she’d make sure she wasn’t the only one bleeding.

“Lost your trust?” Vi shot up from the bed, the sudden movement knocking the box off her lap. The vials hit the floor with a chorus of shattering glass, their delicate bodies colliding violently with the wood beneath them.

“You never trusted me to begin with!”

“Sit down, Violet,” Vander ordered, his voice rising for the first time.

“No.” Vi’s chest was heaving, rage coursing through her veins like fire. “You wanna know what those are?” She jabbed a finger toward the broken vials on the floor. “They are the only reason I am not dead.”

The scrape of Vander’s chair echoed through the room as he stood abruptly.

“You wanna know what’s inside them? Fine.” Vi’s voice trembled with anger, her breaths ragged. “It’s shimmer.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Vander inhaled slowly. “Shimmer?” His voice held something she couldn’t quite place. “Vi, shimmer is a pill for pain. Those have liquid residue.”

Vi blinked.

‘Pill?’

The word barely registered. She had never seen shimmer in pill form. The vials Silco had given her had always been liquid. Was she supposed to be drinking it? Injecting it? She had never questioned it before.

“That’s not the fucking point, Vander!” She was spiraling now, past the point of reason. “You looked everywhere to find something to help me with my issue, yet you found NOTHING. NOTHING, DAMN IT!” 

Vi knew he may not have found anything to help but he did try. Every day the first two years. So she knew she was being unfair. 

“Watch your tone.” Vander’s voice darkened. A warning.

Vi felt the pressure of his authority settle over her, but today? Today, she didn’t care.

“Fuck you and your tone.”

Silence.

A silence so thick it felt like the entire bar below them had gone quiet.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Vi knew she had crossed a line, but she refused to back down. Not this time. She had spent too long feeling powerless, feeling controlled, and she was sick of it.

Vander was the first to break the silence.

“Okay, Vi.” His voice was eerily calm. Too calm. “You want to be like the others. You want to continue taking some unknown substance into your body. I will not watch you die because of this shit. If you won’t quit it and you want to leave…” He took a deep breath. “You have one week to be out of here.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

‘What?’

A week? A week?! She had spent years saving, but she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t prepared. She hadn’t even found a place yet. She couldn’t do that on her own. But she would be damned if she asked him for help now.

She turned, her steps hurried, desperate to get away before the lump in her throat turned into something worse.

Her foot hit something small, and suddenly, she was stumbling.

A vial.

She hadn’t realized they had rolled across the floor too. 

Before she could catch herself, Vander’s hand shot out, gripping her elbow to steady her.

Vi yanked her arm away as if his touch burned her. “Don’t touch me!”

She took a step back, righting herself carefully. Her pulse was thundering in her ears.

And then, before she could stop herself, the final blow left her lips.

“And so you fucking know, your ‘brother,’ Silco, gave me those.”

Vander sucked in a breath, but Vi didn’t wait for his reaction. She didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say.

She turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Vander didn’t follow.

And Vi had never felt more alone.

First, her confrontation with Powder. Then Vander.

Vi was nothing if not emotionally exhausted.

She barely registered her own movements as she descended the stairs back into the bar. Her body felt heavy, like every step was pulling her further into some unseen abyss.

Her head throbbed violently again, a sharp, piercing ache that pulsed behind her eyes. She winced, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth.

‘Ignore it.’

She had more important things to worry about. More pain than just the physical.

“You okay?”

A gentle voice, deep and steady. Claggor. Bless him. Her brother was purer than she deserved, almost as pure as Caitlyn. Maybe even more.

Vi sighed, letting the question sit between them for a moment. “No.”

She wasn’t okay. Not even remotely.

Her world had just crumbled at her feet, and she had no idea how to even begin to rebuild it.

Vi didn’t linger. She guided herself back toward her room, taking the steps slowly, as if her body understood before her mind did; that this space, this place she had called home, was slipping through her fingers.

She paused when she reached the door, pressing her forehead against the cool wood.

The ache in her skull was getting worse. It’s only a matter of time before it becomes unbearable.

A week. That’s all she had left.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The hinges groaned in protest, as if they, too, didn’t want her to leave.

She left it open. Powder would come out as soon as she let her out of the closet.

Moving toward the wooden doors, Vi listened carefully. The only sound from within was the soft, rhythmic breaths of her sister. No snarky comments. No half-hearted insults. Just breathing.

It was unsettling.

Vi reached out, fingers brushing over the fabric she had used to tie the handles together. Her hands trembled as she tried to find the knot, struggling with the ends as her emotions bled into her movements.

‘Fuck it.’

Frustration boiled over. Vi gritted her teeth and grabbed the cloth binding the handles, wrapping her fingers tightly around it.

And then she pulled.

First, tension. Then, a loud snap.

Followed by the unmistakable sound of wood splitting.

The doors broke apart. The force sent Vi stumbling backward, landing hard on her ass.

She barely noticed the pain.

Sitting there, panting, she waited. For Powder to step out. For her to yell at her. For something.

But nothing came.

Just silence.

Vi leaned back on her hands, palms pressing into the cool concrete floor, grounding herself. It was a small comfort.

One week.

That’s all she had.

Yes, she had wanted to leave. But not like this.

She had wanted support. She had wanted Vander to understand. To be there. To help her take that step forward.

But now?

That’s seemed impossible. 

Vi heard the faint rustle of fabric, the soft creak of leather as Powder shifted inside the closet. Then, the light thud of boots stepping forward, stopping just inches in front of her.

Vi angled her head up toward her sister, her unseeing eyes searching the space where she knew Powder stood. But she didn’t know what to do next.

What more could she say?

She had already blamed Powder for her fears, but now that the weight of everything was settling in, it didn’t seem right.

Powder had been a kid.

She had learned how to “take care” of Vi from Vander.

She had only done what she thought was the right thing based off of him. 

Vi’s chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat that she couldn’t swallow down. Her fingers curled into the concrete beneath her, grasping at nothing. ‘Fuck, what have I done?’

A shuddering breath rattled out of her.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice cracking, shaking. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. You were just… just doing what you thought was right.”

Powder didn’t respond immediately. But Vi could hear it, her shifting, her fidgeting, her weight rocking slightly between her feet.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would stop the tears from coming. “I fucked up, Pow-Pow,” she sobbed, the words barely forming past the weight in her chest. “I don’t… I don’t know how to fix this.”

A pause. Then, Powder’s voice soft, questioning. “Fix what?”

She was closer now. Kneeling in front of Vi.

Vi felt her breath stutter as she leaned toward the sound of her sister’s voice, reaching blindly in the space between them. “Everything,” she whispered, voice raw with grief. “I got what I wanted. But I can’t help feeling like I lost my family for it.”

Her body shook with the weight of that confession. Saying it out loud made it feel tangible. 

She had wanted independence. Freedom.

But now, standing on the precipice of it, alone, she wasn’t sure if she had made a mistake.

Then warmth.

Arms, slender but strong, wrapping around her. Holding her tightly.

Vi exhaled a sob against Powder’s shoulder, clutching her in return, as if letting go would mean losing the last piece of her family she still had.

A hand wove into her damp hair, fingers tangling at the nape of her neck.

“You’ll never lose me,” Powder whispered, voice trembling with conviction.

She squeezed Vi just a little tighter, pressing her cheek against her sister’s temple. “I promise.”

This promise Vi actually believed.