Even after a year of working with them, describing Titan is hard. The best analogy I've thought of was imagining taking the subway to work during rush hour. Yet despite leaving in a crowd of people all busily going their separate ways, you knew that they were working the same job. Titan's roots run so old and deep that thinking on a small scale works out better.

Like how I fulfilled my dream of being on TV in the worst way possible, Titan and the underworld have always been good at covering up "dealings," but there are limits. Especially with someone more public like Ben. With my now freed hand, I scrolled through a dozen news sites while sitting at a table, revisiting my borderline faceplant while Ben fed the media vultures what they wanted. Each rewatch made my aching body tense more and more, bubbling up regret until James snatched away my phone.

"What's done is done, Sarah. No one's blaming you," he says supportively before self-reflecting, "I should've been there."

Despite the intention, I couldn't say his guilt made mine any better, which felt almost silly, given everything else I had to answer for. So I told it like it was.

"I was the one who wanted to go alone. I'll know better next time. If there even is one," I said while forming a scowl.

"I'm sure you will, Sarah. It doesn't matter what Ben does now. We've still got hundreds of people attacking him on a hundred fronts. So all we got to do is be ready when Daniels called us," he said optimistically.

The mere mention of his name was enough to keep my mood sour, realizing I would face him again soon enough. Luckily for me, I also had another distraction: food. Then, out of the corner of both our eyes, we saw a familiar face approach. She was a medium-height African American woman in her early fifties though you would never know from the way she carried herself. It was full of life and confidence as she made her appearance on two large plates.

"Sorry for the wait, guys. The seasoning was a millimeter off," she said while handing out our meals.

James got his usual caesar salad while I managed to get an egg white BBQ burger with a mix of french fries and onion rings. Gluttony nearly took me over at sight, but I still had manners.

"The wait's always worth it, Pearl, though I'm surprised you're even here. We don't want to keep you from your work," I said apologetically.

"Sarah, please, if I caged myself in that office any longer, I would've lost it. Besides, I wouldn't miss talking with some of my favorite customers. And my biggest rival," she said while eyeing a James, who was already ecstatic over his meal.

"Mhmm, that millimeter does make the difference. I managed to replicate most of your dishes by tongue, but you always have me beat there across the board. One of these days, you must show me your secret," James said admiringly.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Maybe, but I like seeing you squirm a bit more. What's the special occasion anyway? The expansion has left me a little out of the loop."

Like a rubber band, my mood shot back toward negativity. Picking up on this, Pearl and James tried recovering this time around.

"Oh, one of those days. Well, it happens to the best of us, Sarah. If you want, I can make you some blondies on the house."

"Or maybe blow off some steam with my paintball buddies. You can probably teach them a thing or twenty even with your injuries," James said reassuringly.

Again alien feelings washed over me, making me feel more anxious than supported. All the same, though, my lips quivered, almost wanting to give in. However, by that point, my doubting thoughts started getting audible as they declared.

"This isn't how this is supposed to go," they said.

I wish I could've blocked them out and gotten over myself for once in my life. However, if I were ever good at that, I would've never been where I am now.

"I think I'll pass on both for now. I need to rest," I said while backing away from the table.

I didn't bother hearing their goodbyes. Instead, despite Titan's mass, I managed to autopilot my way out of one of many bases and return to what I call home near midnight. So I had to wander through my small apartment building, complete with paper-thin walls, stitched-together plumbing, inches-deep paint chips, and terminal fluorescents fighting for dear life.

My landlady was most miserable of all, though, whose martial spat could get heard throughout the complex. And will for sure be the talk of the entire complex come morning. Still, it was at least a cheap place to stay, and no one asked questions. However, the best benefit by far was who greeted me while I was inside.

"Brutus, I'm home."

Faster than a bullet, a large black Labrador, greeted me with celebrated panting and nuzzling. From there, I gave my borderline attention hog what he wanted while finally realizing how tired my wounds left them. A twinge of warmth escapes me, followed by the comfort of a bed. But, unfortunately, that same relief never seems to carry over into my mind. And when I'm by myself, away from the distractions of life and death struggle, nothing protects me from the same nightmare.

Bit by bit, I materialize in a dark pool that reached ankle-deep, set with darkness as far as the eye could see under a bright full moon. Then, finally, the ominous silence started to chip my composure, knowing who was watching. It was from there that the gears started turning. A brush at my right leg instinctively made me back away, putting me in full view of a dead body.

The piercing moonlight revealed the corpse's face frozen in abject terror, his slashed throat mixing his very blood into the pool. Yet, I didn't dare retreat, holding my ground even when the water started turning red. I thought that was the only respect I could give to the man I killed long ago. It was the only thing I could do for any of them.

One by one, more corpses started floating their way toward me. Torn arteries, ripped veins, and pierced lungs all bleed simultaneously to create a sea of blood. Knowing what was about to come, I clenched my fists, praying for one night I wouldn't hear "her" taunting voice. Only to be disappointed to the very end.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" a distorted voice said.

I turn around to see a shadowy figure, demonic in stature with piercing red eyes and wisps of the darkness trailing off her. She smiled devilishly from a throne of corpses while I strung together my exhausted thoughts.

"That implies I ever ran away from it," I said gravely.

At that moment, the figure sprung up from its corpse and menacingly walked toward me. Her voice got clearer but more booming as she closed in.

"But that's the thing. You were about to. You quivered, you relented, for a brief moment you gave in," she said mockingly.

By the second, the lump in my front grew bigger, trying but failing to find words amongst the truth and leaving me utterly defenseless while the demonic women got smaller.

"Have you forgotten what you did? What you always do? What you will do?"

That last line managed to string together what little conviction I had left, steeling myself for a desperate response.

"No, and that's why I'm here. Why I'm the Pala-"

"The Paladin? Ah yes, another mask, another justification, another promise. Let's see how long that one lasts. Either way, remember this," the demon proclaimed while wearing my face. "You can't escape from what you are."

The quote immediately jolted me out of bed, shaking, sweaty and scared; an unfortunate occurrence that seems to plague me every night while eating away at my psyche. So like every night in seeping dread, I looked towards the only thing that steels me again. I looked at my twin sai, the weapons that mean more than most would ever know.

"I'm sorry," before heading back to bed.