“P-please, Father… No more… I- I’ll be good.”

My voice croaked out weakly, wavering and cracking with every word. Exhaustion and pain gripped every single fibre of my being in a stranglehold. I just wanted it all to end. I knew that I’d made mistakes, disobeyed Father’s orders, and that was why I deserved this, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.

Thwack!

I yelped at the sharp sting of the cane across my back, taking its place among dozens of other hot, stinging welts. I supposed I should just be grateful that Father had chosen to wait for me to recover from my concussion and broken sternum before continuing my insubordination punishments. Those few weeks of rest were the most peace I’d felt in… I couldn’t even remember. Maybe my whole life. It was all undercut by the dread of what was awaiting me once I was better, though.

It started with the discipline training days. A few days after my beating for failing to protect the SWAT officers, Father dragged me into a room of the facility I’d never been in before. Metal fastenings lined the walls and buckled ropes hung from the ceiling. He set me down on my knees and fastened my hands behind me with some cuffs, hooking them onto a rope so that my arms were wrenched upwards painfully. My ankles were subsequently cuffed to the fastenings on the walls, so I had no choice but to kneel, sitting up off my calves to try and alleviate the pain in my shoulders. Then, Father just left, closing the door and leaving me in the dark.

For eight long hours, I suffered there in unknowable agony, amplified by my lack of sight. By the time he came and released me, the strain in my muscles was so great that I couldn’t move for a good forty minutes afterwards. Then he told me that, until I learned to respect him and his authority, and to never talk back again, this was going to be a weekly thing. I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

Getting shot was almost a good thing, in that regard. It was nice getting to talk to Vivienne and Brianna, and my injuries meant that Father couldn’t justify doling out my punishments for a while, lest he make them worse and ruin my performance as a hero. All that was over with now, though.

Thwack!

“Agh! F-Father! Dad, please! I’m sorry!”

I’d already been in this position for hours, though I’d lost my exact count once the pain got too bad. My arms were restrained over my head, pulling me up onto the tips of my toes. Do I support myself and use up my dwindling muscle strength, or do I just let myself hang, ruining my shoulders with steadily worsening dislocation? That was the question I was left with, though it quickly became pointless to wonder as my calves steadily lost strength and more weight was put on my arms regardless. Now, instead of letting me go, Father was caning me.

“Stop talking, Jordyn,” Father said, calmly. “You know you were forbidden from informing those superheroes of your circumstances, yet you did so anyway. Now be quiet and accept your punishment.”

It was the truth. In my never-ending stupidity and my concussion-induced haze, I’d said a lot of stuff to Vivienne and Brianna that I hadn’t intended to. Father watched the whole thing unfold through my visor camera, sealing my fate. He was right, I deserved this. But, deserved or not, it didn’t change how weak I was. It didn’t change how much I just wanted it to be over. I stifled a sob as the next hit came, vowing to at least follow Father’s orders and not speak, if I couldn’t stop myself from vocalising at all.

A few more strikes, and the punishment finally ended. Father unlocked the cuffs on my wrists and I collapsed with a cry, my dislocated shoulders sending a lance of pain through my body.

“That will be all for now, Jordyn. You have one more discipline session next week, and then we’ll see if the training holds or not. You have two hours to get yourself fixed and rest. Then, you and I have an engagement to attend. I will meet you in your quarters then. Do not be late.”

An engagement? That was the first I’d heard of this. And apparently, that was all I would hear of this, as Father left the room before I could sum up the energy to ask any questions. Oh well. That wasn’t super important right now, anyway. What was important was getting my shoulders back into their sockets. This was really gonna suck.

I grimaced, gingerly rolling onto my back and trying not to hiss at the feeling of my welts against the cold floor. I needed to calm down. This wouldn’t work if I wasn’t relaxed.

I closed my eyes, spending several minutes just breathing, and thinking about calming things. Sitting on rooftops on quiet evenings. Relaxing in my room with a book. Drawing. My shower. Talking with Vivienne and Brianna. I wasn’t expecting those two to pop up in my mind's eye, but it made sense. Their calm demeanour while Vivienne was treating me was part of the reason I didn’t freak out nearly as much as I could have, considering the situation. Brianna was especially good at keeping my mind off of it, her low voice hitting my ear at a comforting frequency as she told me how brave I was being. The thought of that memory made my stomach flutter a bit.

Now that I was calm, I slowly shifted my right arm up until it was over my head, and then carefully reached for my other shoulder. Sure enough, the joint popped back in with one last terrible shot of pain before everything subsided – on that side, at least. Now to do it all over again.

I cursed, spitting one of the words I’d heard the other officers use up at the ceiling. Did everyone’s life involve this much pain?

—

The designated time had come and I stood at the ready in my room, donned in my armour, trying to fight back against the shakiness in my exhausted muscles. Father should be here any minute.

Sure enough, the door slid open and Father walked in, looking me over. He nodded.

“Good, you’re ready. You can leave your helmet here. You won’t need it.”

I frowned, pulling it off and leaving it on the bed. That was highly unusual. Half the reason I was being punished was simply for removing my mouthpiece in front of Vivienne and Brianna. I didn’t even want to consider what Father would do if I’d taken my whole helmet off.

He raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t shaved your head yet.”

A spike of adrenaline shot through me as I reached up to touch my head. He was right, I’d totally forgotten. I hadn’t needed to during my month of recovery, and to be honest, I’d been putting it off, savouring what little hair growth I could get. Right now it was sitting at around half an inch. Surely that wasn’t so bad, right? Still, I couldn’t afford another mistake.

“I- I’m sorry, sir. It slipped my mind.”

He sighed, turning to leave the room and motioning for me to follow. “I suppose it can’t be helped. It’s too late now, and in all fairness, you are recovering from a brain injury. Forgetfulness is to be expected.”

Relief flooded my body. He was letting me off the hook. “Thank you, sir.”

“I expect it to be done before you leave for patrol tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” I tried to hide my disappointment, already mourning the little bit of soft fluff I’d managed to grow.

The silence dragged on as I followed him down the hallway and into the elevator, and with it, my curiosity about the night only grew. “Permission to speak?” I asked.

“Granted.”

“What is this event we’re going to?”

“A party among my friends, to celebrate your relative success.”

“What’s a party?”

He looked at me, a hint of amusement at the edges of his eyes. “You’ll see.”

Once we reached the garage, we got into Father’s car and he drove me through the city. It was nice to be able to see everything without my helmet on for once, and when we arrived at our destination, I finally got to enjoy the sensation of something I’d been waiting for since the day I woke up; feeling the wind in my hair. It almost made up for the terrible day I’d had. Sadly, it was only for the short walk from the car to the building, though.

Once inside, we took an elevator all the way up to the penthouse floor. When the doors opened in front of me, I was greeted by the sight of dozens of older, suited people milling around a large space. Music was playing, and the air was thick with the scent of perfumes and colognes. They all turned to see who the new arrivals were, and all of their eyes quickly locked on to me. I tried to school my expression of discomfort, remembering that I couldn’t hide behind my helmet. The urge to turtle behind the neckpiece of my armour was strong.

“Andy, it’s good to see you!” A man approached us as we stepped into the room; sharply dressed, with his dark brown hair slicked back. A quick glance around at the faces and body language of everyone present confirmed my hunch: this man was the most important person here. He was younger than most of his companions, probably around 40, with angular features; high cheekbones and a sharp jaw.

“Mr. Beaumond,” Father greeted, shaking the man’s hand. “A pleasure, as always.”

Mr. Beaumond turned to me, his dark eyes travelling up and down my form appraisingly. They settled on my face, staring into my soul. A shiver crawled up my spine and I nervously averted my eyes, looking down at his shoes.

“Wow, Andy. I mean, seriously, wow. You’ve outdone yourself. The resemblance is actually uncanny!”

“I should hope so,” Father replied. “If her appearance wasn’t exact, it would mean something went wrong.”

I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was used to that by this point. I’d already accepted the fact that I was an idiot. No reason to agonise over not understanding the conversations of my betters.

“So, how much to rent her out for a night, huh?” Mr. Beaumond grinned and waggled his eyebrows, lightly elbowing Father. Then he burst into laughter, like it was all a joke. Something in his eyes told me it wasn’t. Despite not really understanding, a deeply uncomfortable feeling settled into my gut.

Father’s expression changed slightly, though he maintained the cordial smile. “Jordyn is not for sale, I’m afraid. I prefer to keep her activities tightly monitored in order to maximise her effectiveness. Perhaps we can discuss this in the context of some of the subjects still in development, but given the risks to the program that would involve, I would need quite the hefty funding bonus in order to consider it.”

Mr. Beaumond patted Father on the shoulder. “Ah, lighten up, Andy. It was just a joke! That being said, I’ll hold you to that.” He winked. I was shocked. No one had ever treated Father so casually before, and the way this man was acting was clearly putting Father in a bad mood. If it had been me, Father would have had me nursing multiple broken bones already. And yet, Father was still maintaining that calm, diplomatic smile. An icy sensation crept through my body.

This man held power over him. I could barely wrap my head around the concept. It just didn’t fit with my idea of how the world worked. Father was always at the top of the food chain. The employees at the facility and the police were below him, and I was below them, sitting with the rank and file officers, if not below them, too. Simply put; I was the prey, and Father was the predator. He hunted. He controlled. No one stood against him. The idea that there was anyone that Father was beholden to was terrifying. That the man could cause me so much pain and not be the most powerful was incomprehensible. It made me wonder how much worse Father’s predator would be, when their ire was faced upon me.

“Enough about business, it’s a party!” Mr. Beaumond jovially announced, snapping me out of my paranoid spiralling. “Come, you two! It’s an open bar, so get anything you like.”

He corralled us towards the tall bench that many of the party-goers were milling around. The wall beyond the bench was covered by floor-to-ceiling shelves, all filled with bottles of varying shapes and sizes. A man in a waistcoat stood behind the bench, rushing between people and filling glasses with the liquids inside the various bottles. His speed and efficiency in his work was fascinating to watch.

“Jordyn doesn’t drink,” Father said, to which I was tempted to argue that I do indeed drink, I have water all the time, when he continued, “She’ll just have a coke.”

The man behind the bar nodded and started filling up a glass with some sort of bubbly, dark brown liquid. Mr. Beaumond laughed that laugh of his.

“What is she, fourteen? Come on, Andy, don’t be a stick in the mud. She’s an adult; she can have a drink if she wants to.” He turned to me, and I had to resist the urge to back up. “Well, Jordie? What do you say? Care to have a drink with the grown-ups?”

I found myself at a loss for words, gaping like a fish as I kept trying to speak, only to come up empty. To say yes would be to go directly against Father’s wishes. To say no would be to go against Mr. Beaumond’s wishes. I didn’t know which was worse. Even outside of that, I had no idea how to respond. Wasn’t I getting a drink anyway? Maybe I was misunderstanding some terminology that the two men took for granted. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“As her handler, I would prefer that Jordyn doesn’t drink anything alcoholic tonight.” Father said pointedly. “She’s going out on patrol tomorrow for the first time since her injury. I would rather not have a hangover muddy her performance any more than inactivity no doubt already has. We wouldn’t want your investments to go to waste, after all.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Mr. Beaumond put his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re her boss.”

Father handed me the glass of brown liquid as he ordered a drink of his own. I took a sniff and immediately recoiled as the sweet smell seemed to fizzle up my nose. Father laughed at my reaction as I tentatively took a sip. Again, the sweetness was almost overpowering, and it felt like the liquid was gently stabbing the inside of my mouth, tingling as it travelled down my throat. Surprisingly, that wasn’t actually a bad thing. It was just… weird. And new. I’d only ever had water before, so this whole thing was a very novel experience. I actually kind of liked it.

“Well, you two have fun now,” Mr. Beaumond said. “I’m gonna go mingle. We’ll talk business soon, yeah Andy?” He turned to me, giving me a wink. “Catch you later, sweetcheeks.”

With that, he sauntered off into the crowd. Father and I watched him go.

“Who is he?” I asked quietly.

“Sebastian Beaumond,” Father answered. “He’s a senator, and one of the key investors in your rehabilitation program. Treat him with the same respect you would treat me.”

I could have sworn he said the last part through gritted teeth.

—

If there was one thing I’d learned about parties throughout the night, it was that they were incredibly overwhelming. As soon as Mr. Beaumond left us alone, it seemed like everyone wanted a piece of me, and Father was little help, often engaging in completely unrelated conversations while I was left to fend for myself among all of the strangers who had a weird fixation with my face, for some reason. I lost count of how many times some old person pinched my cheek or poked me. It didn’t help that I was still in quite a lot of pain from the day’s punishments; my calves quivering and my shoulders steadily pulsing with sharp muscle stabs, the welts on my back still stinging with every movement. At least the drink Father gave me was nice…

Finally, after enduring the unwanted affections and confusing compliments from dozens of people, I was able to find the space to duck away and hide in a corner, catching my breath away from the crowd. Most people had gotten caught in conversations with each other, leaving me free to slip into the shadows, subtly pulling them around me to further obscure myself from view. I’d had enough interaction for one night, and not having my helmet on, despite how I usually disliked its oppressive cage around my head, was making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

A felt a presence coming closer, and a shiver travelled down my spine. Mr. Beaumond approached, two drinks in hand. I watched him warily as he came near, crowding me into the corner of safety I’d hidden in.

“It’s pretty dark around here,” he said, looking around. “That your doing? Don’t tell me you’re trying to hide away, Jordie? You’re practically the life of the party!”

I blinked up at him, trying to avoid staring too hard into the black pits of his eyes. Something about them was unsettling. “I… I, uh…”

He let out a small laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you? Here, drink this. It should help with that.” He held out one of the glasses. Inside was a brown liquid; lighter than the drink I’d had earlier, and without the bubbles. Its scent made my nose burn.

“I… I shouldn’t. Father said I wasn’t allowed.”

“Father did, hm? That’s what you call him? Ah, that’s cute. Well, he’s not around right now, is he? Besides, this party is to celebrate you! You deserve to cut loose a little. Go on, drink it.”

Mr. Beaumond leaned in closer. I didn’t want to say no to him, but the knowledge of what would await me if I disobeyed Father was too strong a warning to ignore. I hesitantly shook my head.

“Father would find out. I don’t want to be punished. I- I’m sorry, Mr. Beaumond.”

His face dropped all expression, becoming totally blank. The darkness of his pupils seemed to draw me in. There was nothing behind them; no light, no goodness, only a strange flickering at the edges of my vision that filled me with awful, primordial anxiety. It was the exact same sensation I felt right before my seizure a few months ago; a predator was watching me, and I was completely helpless against it. I was staring into the abyss, and it stared straight back into me.

“A word of advice, Jordyn, since I know you’re new to the whole ‘being alive’ thing. When someone offers you something, it’s polite to take it, regardless of what you really want. Maybe you should worry less about how Andreas will react, and worry more about me. Who knows, I might feel slighted by your snubbing of my offer. Andreas owes me a lot of money; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I paid you a visit in the facility some day to teach you a lesson in respect. And I would be very thorough, Jordyn. You think you know pain? You think you understand humiliation? I can break you in ways you can barely comprehend, ways Andreas wouldn’t even dare think of. Andreas may own you, but I own him. I own this city. There is nowhere you can go to be safe from me.”

He leaned back a little as I stood there, completely frozen. My heart raced like it was trying to escape from my chest. That same old easy smile overtook his face, replacing the cold, empty blankness. The smile was honestly worse.

“All that is to say… C’mon. Don’t be boring, Jordie. Take a drink with me.”

I took the drink from him, too petrified to do anything but obey. The liquid inside sloshed against the glass from the way my hands were shaking. He noticed it, and the edges of his eyes crinkled in delight.

“Aww, did I scare you? I’m sorry, babe. Drink up, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Mr. Beaumond, what are you doing?”

I’d never been so relieved to see Father in my life. He strode up to us, a stern look on his face that, for once, wasn’t directed at me. Mr. Beaumond didn’t look at him, keeping his horribly empty gaze locked on to me.

“Just giving the little lady a drink, nothing to lose your head over.”

“I thought I told you that wasn’t happening.”

Mr. Beaumond rounded on him, seeming to tower over Father despite being slightly shorter.

“Tell me, Andy. What makes you think you have a say? If I recall correctly, I own almost seventy percent of the shares for your little project. Doesn’t that mean I have a say in how things are run? A bigger say than yours, even?”

Father took a deep breath. I could almost feel his anger rising. “Even so, as I said earlier, I believe it would be foolish to get her drunk the night before her redeployment. Her public image could be at stake.”

Mr. Beaumond tilted his head. “It’s funny that you think I don’t know what your real goal is. ‘Revitalising the police?’ Please, don’t make me laugh. I know what you’re really planning with this little project of yours, and I just want you to know, I am invested in your success. Believe it or not, I want you to succeed. This world needs changing, and I do think you’re the one to do it. That being said, I could just as easily change my mind. It would be a cinch to cut your funding down to nothing. You’d have to downsize quite a bit. Maybe even let go of poor little Jordyn here. I would take good care of her, of course, but you’d be left without your soldier. You could start again with another subject, but how would that look in the eyes of the public? Your pet superhero just up and disappears, but it’s okay, because now you’ve got a new one, with no news of where the first one went? That wouldn’t go down well, especially with the rumours that are already floating around about Jordyn. Tell me, Andy. What’s worse? A hero in a program people are already suspicious of disappearing? Or, said superhero going back to work with a hangover? Hell, it might actually convince people you don’t hold the leash as tight as you do. It would be good for you. Just think about it.”

Father grit his teeth and finally submitted, looking down at the floor. “Do as he says, Jordyn. Drink.”

I didn’t even know what the drink was, but after how insistent Mr. Beaumond had been, I felt hesitant out of pure principle. “But-”

Father looked at me sharply and I had to resist the instinct to recoil. “You still have one week left on your insubordination punishment. Don’t make me extend that further.”

He was right. I couldn’t afford to be forced into that horrible room for even a second longer than I already had to. Whatever this drink was, it couldn’t be worse than that. I took a deep breath and brought the glass up to my lips, taking as big of a gulp as I could manage in order to finish it quicker.

That was a mistake.

The bitter liquid burned the inside of my mouth and all the way down my throat. I had to resist the urge to retch, forcing myself to swallow. A sudden nausea snapped through me for a split second before fading.

“That was awful,” I muttered, pulling a face.

Mr. Beaumond laughed. “Keep going, you’ve still got half a glass left!”

I tried not to shudder, steeling myself for the unpleasant experience before taking another large sip. Better to just get it over and done with.

By the time I was done, I was actively resisting the need to throw up. I put the glass down on a nearby table and stumbled back to the wall, leaning heavily against it. My head felt like it was spinning slightly, and the sensation was awful. I felt like I was slowly losing control of my own body, and in a place as dangerous and unsafe as this, I needed as much control as I could get.

“There’s a good girl,” Mr. Beaumond said. He held out the other glass. “Not done yet, though. Come on, you can do it.”

I let out a whine as my stomach dropped, looking to Father for help. He just nodded. I was completely on my own.

—

I stared at the floor, trying not to puke as the world spun horribly around me. My entire face felt numb, and my thoughts felt slow. If I thought the sensation of lacking control was bad after one glass, I had no idea what was coming once I’d finished the second one. Thankfully, Mr. Beaumond left me alone after that, patting me on the back and congratulating me for a job well done before sauntering off to bother someone else. Father told me to keep my head down and not talk to anyone for the rest of the night, so that’s what I was doing, lounging in a chair, hiding behind my shadows, and just trying to stay alive. At least the numbness made my injuries hurt a little less. It was a very minor comfort, in the face of everything else.

Time lost all meaning as I sat there, swaying back and forth. It felt like I’d been at this party for hours and hours, but that couldn’t be right; the clock on the wall hadn’t changed enough for that.

“Jordyn.”

I looked up at the sound of my name. Father stood over me, a carefully even expression on his face. I knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of worry underneath it, though. Behind him, the room had almost emptied out.

“Yeh…yeah, dad?”

His lip curled downwards a little at that. “We’re moving to a boardroom to discuss business. Given your… state, I believe it best that you do not attend. You can go home.”

I blinked. “R-really?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Use your shadows to obscure your face. If you allow anyone to see it, I will know, and there will be dire consequences. Am I understood?”

I nodded rapidly and immediately regretted it, as a wave of nausea travelled up my throat. “Yea- urp.” I quickly covered my mouth in case anything came out.

Father sighed. He waved a hand at me, as if shooing me off. “Get going. And if you need to throw up, do it somewhere no one will see.”

I nodded much more carefully as he walked away. Standing up was difficult, but I managed it with a bit of effort, stumbling over to the elevator and failing multiple times at pressing the button for the ground floor. This trip was going to be a pain, that was for sure.

—

I was lost.

No matter how hard I looked, no matter how many street signs I stared at, no matter how much I surveyed the area from atop a building, I just couldn’t find my way back to the precinct. My sense of direction was completely shot from the spinning in my head, and I’d already had to stop to throw up once. This night couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Father was going to be so mad at me.

The thought made a sob rip from my chest. I stumbled back against a wall and sank to the floor, unable to hold it back anymore. Once he found me, he was gonna hurt me again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Seven? Is that you?”

I blinked away my tears, looking up and ensuring that a cloud of shadows remained around my face. Vivienne stood not too far away, dressed in street clothes with a satchel around her shoulder. Her outfit was simple but cute; a yellow long-sleeve underneath a dark green cardigan, and a pair of skinny denim jeans. It made envy and longing burn deep down in my gut. What I wouldn’t give to get to wear cute stuff like that.

I sniffled. “Vivienne?”

“Hey,” she said. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Are you alright? What’s, uh… what’s going on with your helmet? It looks like a cloud.”

“I left it at home. Usin’ shadows to hide m’ face.”

Vivienne frowned. “Are you drunk?”

The question brought the memory of Mr. Beaumond forcing me to drink straight back to the forefront of my mind and I crumpled into another fit of sobbing.

“Woah, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!” Vivienne said. “Here, c’mon. Let’s get you up off the floor, okay?”

She reached down and I took her hand, using it to help myself up. My balance was off though, and I stumbled against her, my head falling down onto her shoulder. She smelled nice.

“Are you… okay, Seven?”

No. I wasn’t okay. I didn’t want to feel like this anymore; so helpless and out of control. I didn’t want to be lost. I didn’t want Father to hurt me anymore. I didn’t want to be a superhero. I choked on another sob and shook my head against her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” She wrapped her arms around me, burying one in the short hair on the back of my head, and I practically melted into her. No one had ever held me like this before. No one had touched me so gently, not since the early days of my rehabilitation. I never wanted it to end.

“He… H-he made me drink… I di’n’t wanna, but he made me… sss…said he’d hurt me. I feel so bad ‘n I’m lost ‘n dad’s g’nna punish me again ‘f I don’ get back.”

Vivienne stiffened in my arms. “Who made you drink, Seven? Who said they’d hurt you?”

“Please don’ call me that,” I muttered. “Nn… N-name’s Jordyn. M’ not a number. I’m a person ‘n I’m not a number… I just… I wanna be a person…” My eyes pricked with hot tears.

“Okay. Okay, Jordyn,” Vivienne said, rubbing the back of my head. “That’s a nice name. Much better than Seven. Now, who did you say threatened you?”

“Mr. B- Beaumond.”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is. I wish I could help you more.”

I groaned, shaking my head and burying my face in the cotton of Vivienne’s cardigan. “S’ okay… You… you smell nice…”

Vivienne laughed. It sounded like music. The thought brought a small smile to my face. “Thanks. It’s probably my perfume.”

I hummed, closing my eyes. If I wasn’t standing, I could easily fall asleep like this, cuddled up to Vivienne. Her shoulder was at just the right height for me to rest my head on. Hell, I was almost about to doze off just like that when I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

“Can you… help me get home, please?” I asked.

“Okay, sure. Where do you live?”

“Precinct 23.”

“You… You live at the precinct?” I could practically hear the frown in Vivienne’s voice.

“There’s a big facility un’er it. I’ve lived there forever.”

“You’ve been under the precinct your entire life?”

“As far back ‘s I rem’ber, anyway. I dunno what I did before then. ‘S been a year since I woke up. Dad says I’ve always been a hero, but I don’ remember it. I… I don’t really like it. I don’ like the fighting.”

“I… I see…” Vivienne muttered. I was probably saying too much, but I couldn’t find it in me to care, and without my helmet on, Father wouldn’t see, anyway. For once, I was completely free of his surveillance. The moment would be over far too soon, though.

“Alright, well… I can take you to the precinct, but you’ll have to get inside yourself. Is that okay?”

I nodded against her shoulder. “Mhm.”

“Hold on to your guts. I’m about to teleport.”

The air popped in my ears as the scenery changed to the front entrance of the precinct. What a handy power to have.

“This is you,” Vivienne said, finally pulling back from the hug. I quickly amassed my shadows again to hide my face as we parted. “Do you need anything else?”

“Mm, no,” I replied. “Thanks for… Thanks for talking to me.”

Vivienne smiled, tilting her head slightly. The streetlights sparkled in her eyes. My stomach filled with butterflies at the sight.

“No problem. See you around, Jordyn.”

With a slight pop, she teleported away.

God, what an amazing woman.

I looked at the precinct. Now I just had to find my way back to my room. Easy, right?

—

I awoke to the feeling of someone nudging me in the side. My head was pounding. There was so much noise, and the light that was creeping through my eyelids was like needles being driven directly into my brain.

“Jordyn?” someone asked. I thought I recognised the voice as Mr. Sadler’s.

“Wh… what?”

“Why are you sleeping in the corridor?”

The memories of last night came rushing back. Stumbling into the elevator and heading down. Wandering through the halls, trying door after door to no avail. Finally, giving up and flopping down on the floor, sleeping right there in the hallway. I groaned, burying myself under a dark sheet of shadow to hide away.

“Leave me alone…”

Mr. Sadler laughed. “Long night, huh? Sounds like you’re gonna have fun at work today.”

The reminder felt worse than a broken sternum. I would legitimately rather die.