Page 57 of Toxic B!tch

“I said I would,” I answer, my voice rougher than I intend.

She studies me, searching for something in my face. “I wasn’t sure if you actually would.”

I frown. “Why?”

Indigo shrugs, but it’s not careless. “Because people say a lot of things they don’t mean.”

There’s something bitter in the way she says it, something that makes my chest tighten. I could argue, tell her I’m not like that. But I don’t. Because maybe, in some ways, she’s right.

I glance around. “Why here?”

She looks past me to the tracks that lead nowhere. “Because it’s quiet. No one comes here. And because it feels right.”

Right.

For a conversation like this. For an ending.

Or maybe for something else entirely.

“Then talk.”

Indigo hesitates, like she’s picking apart the words before she lets them go. And when she does, they come slow, careful.

Indigo sighs. “It’s not about the thrill, Malik. It was never about that.”

“Then what was it about?”

She hesitates, and I can hear the moment she lets the walls crack, just a little. “Survival.”

The word is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through me like a blade.

Her breath is steady, but her fingers curl tighter into her pants pockets. “There are things I can’t undo, Malik. Things I can’t fix. I don’t expect you to understand, but I need you to hear me.”

My throat is dry. “I’m listening.”

Her jaw tenses, her gaze flickering away before she forces it back to mine. “I didn’t choose this life. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to be this person. But when you’re backed into a corner, when the only way out is through… you do what you have to do.” Her voice wavers, just slightly. “You survive.”

“And the people who didn’t?” I ask quietly. “The ones who didn’t survive?”

Her expression tightens, but she doesn’t look away. “I won’t make excuses for that.”

The words settle into my chest like lead.

I swallow hard. “How many?”

Her lips press together, but she doesn’t hesitate. “Too many.”

The answer knocks the breath from my lungs. I wince, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“Why them?” My voice is barely more than a rasp. “Why her?”

Indigo doesn’t blink. “None of them were good people.” She tilts her head, watching me like she’s waiting for me tounderstand. “She was toeing the line. She hurt you.” A pause. A shift. And then, softer, deadlier, “That’s unacceptable.”

I exhale, shakily, like I’ve been holding my breath for too long. My pulse hammers against my ribs, the weight of her words pressing down on me.

“Will you stop?” The question leaves my lips before I can swallow it back.

Indigo doesn’t look away. “No.”