Page 52

H.A.Z.E

E xisting is a punishment worse than death.

Seven years ago, I was a shell with no memories, a stranger in my own skin, and this deep, suffocating pit of boredom. No, not boredom— emptiness. The only things that seemed to matter were chaos and death—so much death.

Failure, after failure, after failure; why is it so goddamn hard to die?!

There are voices; they’re loudest when the darkness is too thick. They mean nothing. They always mean nothing to me. But now, I just want them to stop. They hurt.

Living is a punishment worse than Hell.

Perhaps it’s a good thing I have no memories. Perhaps I should have just kept my mouth shut and my urges repressed. Perhaps I should have stayed in the Red Zone, killed whatever crossed me and just dealt the fuck with it.

Because now, the pit inside me isn't empty; it's burning. It's burning constantly, and it feels lethal, like if I let go, I might just burn the fucking world to the ground.

I remember Ricci. I remember his voice in my ear, his experiments, his tools and his men. I remember the feeling of my skull cracking open, and mostly, I remember my blood. Red, warm and right.

I stare at the portal, at the man holding a baby in his arms too tight. I can see the baby wiggling. Can see her ivory skin glow red as she struggles in his arms. She looks so weak, and fragile, and… human.

There is no love in his eyes, no warmth, yet him, I remember. Papa.

I flick my gaze to the girl—my sister. She's only seven here, with her tangled hair and wide, worried eyes. She's looking at me—or the younger version of me—with a look I hadn't expected. Something warm. Something soft. Love.

I can't look away.

Papa's hold on me tightens. I’m struggling, but it's my sister who has my attention.

Her small arms reach out to me, her eyes wide, tears streaming down her face, her lips wobbling, and her face twisted with worry.

I can see the fear in her eyes; the fear of seeing me hurt, the quiet desperation to save me, to make it better.

It's so strange, so unfamiliar, I can't process it. That's not how I remember her. That's not how I remember us. The only thing I had known about my human life was that I wasn't my father's daughter, and he never let me forget it.

I remember his hateful words, his cold eyes, and his sneers. But I don't remember her— my sister.

Did she always have that love in her eyes? Had it always been for me?

As my memories return, she's just a blur in the background. She isn't important—at least, I don’t think she is. Why can't I remember her?

It feels like something cracks inside me, sharp and painful, like ice splitting under pressure.

I grit my teeth as the memory fades, and so does its warmth. It slips away, fading into the blackness that surrounds us, swallowed by the void.

I reach for it; I hadn't realised I moved until I'm staring at my own hand.

The picture slips between my fingers. The details blur —the warmth in her eyes, the quiver in her chin, the love she had that you just couldn't fake.

They're all slipping through my fingers, just like every good thing I've ever had.

"You were human once, right?" I turn to Reece, the warmth in her eyes gone. I don’t answer; I don’t need to. "She would be so disappointed in you, and so am I."

The words hit like a blade, sharp and precise. I want to take a step back; I want to rub the ache over my chest, but I can't let her see me so weak. So pitiful.

A laugh bubbles out of me, sharp and hollow, slicing through the tense air between us. It's not real, and we both know it.

"How fucking stupid are you?" My voice is cold, and my lips curl into a sneer. "She doesn't matter. She was weak, Reece. She deserved everything they did; she was pathetic. And yet, I protected her. I'm her hatred, her anger, her pain."

I take a step towards her, then another, and Reece's expression falters as I close the distance between us.

Her eyes widen a fraction before narrowing again.

"Do you think what you say matters to me?

Do you think I care you're disappointed?

The only fucking reason I exist is because the people she loved, the ones she prayed to every night—they didn't."

I know I've struck my mark. I know I've hurt her. Her face—the pain there—is unbearable. Her lips tremble, her fists clench at her sides, and I realise I've hurt her. Good. If I have to feel this, then she should, too.

Reece glances at the picture beside her. I don’t look; whatever it is, it isn’t me. Not anymore.

"Y-You protected her?" Reece says, low. As if those words don't suit me.

"The only way I knew how." I smile. It's wide and hollow and cruel. "I killed and buried that bitch so deep in the darkness, she'll spend eternity alone—forgotten, and dead ."

The word barely leaves my lips before the sharp crack of her palm against my cheek reverberates through the air, stunning me into silence. I hardly feel it; it’s the shock that paralyses me.

She slapped me.

I don't move. My head stays where her slap had left it. I stare into the void, at the portals that seem so far. Reece whispers, her voice cracking, "I hate you."

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

My heart hurts. It's crushing me. I hate it… I hate the goddamn noise.

I turn to Reece. Her chest heaves as she glares at me, her lips pressed into a firm line. There's a fire in her eyes, a defiance I didn't think she had.

"You were hurt, and you were alone, and there was no one to save you. But hurting innocent people, throwing your power around just because you can… What gives you the right? "

I chuckle, my hands clenched so tight, I can feel the blood weeping out of my skin. I want her to hurt. I want her to fucking burn.

"That's rich, coming from you," I say, my words cold.

"It's true. I'm not good. I've killed and ruined many innocent lives.

I did it out of boredom; I did it because I could, because I was selfish.

But don't stand there and act like you're innocent.

You can smile, and you can laugh, but it doesn't change the fact that when I was marked a slave… you did nothing."

Reece flinches as I take one step forward.

She doesn't meet my gaze, she doesn't need to—I'm hurting her, good.

"And I get it; truly, I do. Your son was in danger.

You did what any mother would have done.

But why are you the only ones allowed to be selfish?

Why are you the only ones allowed to fight for anything? "

Her jaw hardens. "It's different."

"Why?"

"Because I knew what I was doing was wrong.

I knew what I was letting Riot do was wrong.

But as we spent more time together," she says, looking at me curiously, "there was something about you.

Something familiar I thought I could salvage.

Something I thought I could save. I thought what you needed was redemption. "

Redemption? Forgiveness? Fuck that.

The world loves to preach about selflessness, about redemption being a noble path to walk. Noble, sure—but pointless. Why should I fight to be someone else? Someone better? Being better means giving up who I am, and who I am is someone who takes—and I regret nothing.

Why should I? That human girl I once was fought for everyone but herself, and no one cared. No one showed her the same kindness. No one even cared to look for her; especially not the fucking Gods.

I'm not delusional. I know exactly where I'll go when I'm dead. I know Hell exists for creatures like me. And I want Hell; I want fire and brimstone. Bring it on, because no one, not even the Gods, knows what I've endured. What I survived. At one point, neither had I. But I know now. I understand.

I am selfish, and I like it. Because it's mine. My choices. My fucking life.

The coldness settles into my eyes, icy and painful, as I stare into Reece's hazel eyes, a smile curling over my lips. But this time, it isn’t cold; it’s cruel. Promising.

"You thought wrong, Reece."

Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back, but I grab the back of her neck and pull her close so she can see the true depth of my darkness, my cruelty.

"Do you want to know a secret?" I whisper, tilting my head. "I never controlled you—not once. Your words, your actions... They're entirely your own. I simply shoved you into the dark, and you couldn't handle it."

Her eyes widen, tears gathering as I release her with a hard shove. She falls to the floor, and I stand over her.

Sin. Abomination. Evil; it was the only right thing to come out of her fucking mouth.

"So, remember that the next time you want to judge me." The blackness fades, melting around us as we return to reality, and I say, "But I guess I should be grateful… You reminded me of who I am."

"Mom!" Eden shouts, flinging himself into his mother's arms. But her eyes are on me, teary-eyed and dripping with fire.

Good.