A booming voice from outside made Zatrice flinch.

His heart pumped faster, sweat beading on his forehead, Zatrice's eyes darted to the broken window, then back to the door.

Stay or run?

His mind began to twitch through the options, each seeming worse than the last.

Yet the decision was made for him as the door handle rattled, Without thinking further, he moved to the window, his bloodied hands leaving spots on the edge as he climbed out onto the fire escape.

The cool night air hitting him like a slap, as he climbed down, the shouts from inside the apartment, the sound of heavy boots on creaking floorboards, grow louder.

Zatrice started down the fire escape, trying to move quickly but quietly, but when He was halfway down he heard a voice from above...

"He's on the fire escape, get HIM!!!"

Zatrice looked up to see a police officer leaning out of the window, radio in hand. Their eyes met for a short moment before Zatrice continued his descent, moving faster now, no longer caring about the noise.

Just when he reached the bottom of the ladder, his foot slipped on a wet rung. Zatrice tumbled the last few feet, landing hard on the damp pavement. Pain shot through his ankle, but adrenaline dulled it to a distant throb.

He pushed himself up, limping towards the mouth of the alley, The neon-lit street beyond seemed far away as Zatrice heard the officers above, their boots clanging on the metal stairs as they gave chase.

"Stop! Police!"

Zatrice's heart pounded as he pushed his sore body forward, ignoring the shouts behind him, glancing between shadowy alleyways, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Spotting a fire escape, he leapt, fingers just catching the lowest rung, muscles screaming, he hauled himself up this time scaling the rusty metal with desperate speed.

Higher and higher he climbed, until he reached the rooftop struggling to the edge, peering down at the dizzying drop while His stomach lurched.

Flashlight beams swept across the rooftop. "He's up here!" a gruff voice called.

Zatrice's eyes darted around, searching for an escape yet there was nowhere left to run.

He glanced down again, noticing a dumpster far below seeming small from this height.

"I can see his shadow, be ready!!" An officer's voice rang out, making zatrice mind.

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He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped.

The world blurred as he dived, body slamming into something soft yet stubborn, the impact driving the air from his lungs simultaneously as he sank into a sea of rotten garbage.

Footsteps pounded on the rooftop above while Zatrice held his breath, sinking deeper into the filth.

"Where'd he go?" one officer asked, voice muffled.

"No sign of him down there," another replied. "No one could survive that fall, he must be hiding up here somewhere."

Zatrice remained motionless, listening as the voices faded and only when silence returned did he allow himself to breathe, gagging at the stink.

Hours crawled by.

As Zatrice drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind replaying fragmented memories.

As dawn's first light crept into the alley, Zatrice stirred, pulling himself out of the dumpster, grimacing as Rotten food slid from his clothes.

Zatrice stumbled through back streets, keeping to the shadows, body ached his thoughts a jumbled mess.

Finally, he reached a familiar door, With trembling hands, he inserted his key.

Inside, Beulla sat on the couch, leg bouncing nervously up and down.

At the sound of the door, she leapt up, eyes widening as she took in Zatrice's shitty appearance.

"Zatrice!" she cried, rushing towards him, "what happened? Are you hurt?"

Zatrice stood frozen, unable to form words.

While Beulla wrapped her arms around him, he melted into the embrace," I missed you," Zatrice whispered, his voice cracking as tears began to fall, "i missed you so much."

Beulla held him tighter, her own eyes glistening, After a long moment, she pulled back, studying his face.

"You need to get cleaned up," she said softly. "I'll make you something to eat, okay?"

Zatrice nodded mutely, shuffling towards the bathroom.

He stared at his reflection, barely recognising the face looking back at him, Slowly, he began to scrub away the grime and blood with the hot water.

"Food's ready!" Beulla called.

Zatrice emerged from the bathroom to find fresh clothes laid out, a red jacket, white t-shirt and new black shoes, He changed, the soft fresh fabric a new thing he was not used to.

In the living room, Beulla sat on the couch, a half-empty beer bottle in her hand.

While a steaming bowl of vegetable soup and a glass of orange juice waited on the coffee table.

"Are you okay?" Zatrice asked, his voice hoarse.

Beulla nodded, gesturing to the food. "Eat first, then we'll talk."

As Zatrice began to eat, Beulla picked up the remote, flicking through channels. Suddenly, she paused, her body tensing.

"...murder in the streets of Shinangan," a news anchor's voice intoned. "The killer, believed to be a teenager, approximately 18 years old, pink hair, red eyes..."

Beulla turned up the volume, her eyes fixed on the screen, Zatrice's spoon clattered against the bowl as images of the crime scene flashed across the TV.

He looked at Beulla, shame warring in his expression as she met his gaze, her face unreadable.

"Zatrice," she said quietly, "do you have something you need to tell me?"

Zatrice slumped onto the couch, his eyes fixed on the floor, the remnants of steam from the soup curled upwards, forgotten, Beulla's gaze bore into him, waiting.

"I... I don't know," Zatrice finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Beulla's fingers tightened around her beer bottle. "Stop lying. That's you they're describing. Pink hair, red eyes, How many people fit that description in this city?"

Zatrice looked up, meeting her eyes. "Beulla, I swear, I really don't know, I-"

"Then explain the blood," she cut him off, her voice rising, "explain the state you were in when you came home, because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty damn clear."

Zatrice ran a hand through his damp hair, wincing as he encountered a tangle, "the last thing I remember is putting that chip in my brain, and then... I woke up in the middle of a massacre, Leon - you know, the guy who used to supply me with illegal porn? He was dead…The twins too, but I don't-"

Beulla's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide, "you killed them," she breathed.