Val looked over at the fallen merc. And then to Bread. He wasn’t moving either. Neither of them were.

What was going on?

“Bread?” she called out. “Bread? You there?” She knelt down to take a closer look—his eyes were open, empty and lifeless, mouth agape as if frozen in time. How was she supposed to tell if he was okay? He didn’t have a heart. He had no beat! What was she supposed to do?

But then the kid’s fingers twitched. He started to stir. Color finally returned to his eyes, and with it, droplets of tears. Lots and lots of tears…

“Bread?”

After a brief glance, he looked away.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?” He looked ghastly as if he’d just seen a ghost, but the tears betrayed him. Water endlessly poured down his cheeks. Something had happened, but what? Between the time she’d left him to now, what could’ve happened in that time?

“Coach,” he started. “He’s—”

“Shit! Coach!” That’s right! She’d almost forgotten. Rictor wasn’t important. She needed to find Coach fast!

She sprinted towards the burning gym, tripping over piles of rocks and asphalt that had probably loosened up during all the commotion. She almost tripped over her own feet. Through the window, she didn’t like what she saw. Walls were aflame; the ceiling was melting away, collapsing from the unbearable heat.

It was an inferno.

She got to the door and pulled. Locked. She patted herself down. My key! Then she remembered. She had left them inside. Fuck! Why was it locked in the first place? Wait—

“Bread! Help me open this! It’s locked!”

“Coach. He’s—”

“Yeah, I’m getting to him! Can you please come over and help?” Why was he dawdling so much? “Bread! Now’s not the time to be crying!”

Bread slowly pushed himself off the ground.

“Can you hurry it up?!” She couldn’t take it. It was taking him ages. Okay, fine! I’ll do this myself. She walked a few steps back. Then, with a running start, she slammed her shoulder into the door.

Pain shot up her shoulder, but she ignored it. The door had bent at the edges, but the force wasn’t enough. She stepped back again. This time, she pulled her right hand back. And when she dashed in, she threw the strongest cross punch she could throw. Steam gushed out from her arms as her pow packs activated. Her fist slammed into the hard metal surface, and the door finally crashed over with a thud.

“Coach!” She barged in. “Coach, are you there?” She looked around. Nothing. She ran over towards the workshop, and—

A body.

A familiar body on the bed.

“Coach?”

The edges of the frame were starting to burn. Red covered the pillow.

“Coach…”

Her voice quivered. She gently reached over and lifted his face. A large wound on his forehead. A large hole…

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No…

His pupils had dilated, grown wide like the moon.

“Coach, wake up.” She caressed him closer; her hands dyed deep red. He was cold. Why was he cold? Is he… She shook the thought away. No, he was just unconscious. He wasn’t—no, just unconscious. He was obviously unconscious. “Coach, i-it’s not safe here. Coach—”

“Val…”

“B-Bread! Come here, quick! He’s—he’s not breathing. You can save him, right? You can zap him awake! Like-like a defib! Get his pulse going again!”

“I can’t.” The kid started to tear up again, eyes bloodshot, watery. His face looked so pale under the glowing flames. “He’s already dea—”

“Shut up! What are you saying?!” She grabbed a wrench from the ground and threw it over only for it to bounce off his shoulder. A metallic ring echoed back under the soft crackling of fire. “He’s not d—just do it. Like you always do!” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to Coach’s chest. “Do it!”

Bread’s hand weakly fell back to his side.

“Why… Why won’t you just listen for once!” Her face burned. She could feel something in her eye. “Why do you keep fucking up my life?!” She wouldn’t stand for it. She was going to save Coach no matter what.

Maybe it’s the smoke? Yeah, that’s it! He’s just suffocating!

She quickly pulled the unconscious Coach up and carried him out back into the open grass of dandelions and gently placed him down.

“Val?”

Chest compressions. That was what he needed. She started to pump his chest with air. He was going to live. One, two, three, four… She continued to pump vigorously. The hole above his eyes stared back. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… She wasn’t going to let him die. Not when it was her fault. Twenty, twenty-one… It was her fault. Again and again. Beady, and now… All her fault… Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven… There it was again. The hole. It wasn’t going away; it was still there. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine… Something caught her eye. Inside, next to the bed, fallen on the ground…

A gun.

“Fuck!” She ran over and grabbed the gun. Her eyes watered, but she held it back. It was just the fire; the smoke had gotten into her eye.

She marched through the gym all the way back to the front. The man was still there, knocked out cold. She could see him on the ground, sprawled out without a care in the world. She stood over him—the one that had caused all of this.

Rictor.

She aimed the gun just above his eyes and placed her finger on the trigger. She’d make his face look the same as Coach’s. She’d add another hole to his collection and make him suffer the same fate—

“No!” Bread jumped in front of the merc.

“Get out of my way.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Get out!”

“I-I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore!”

“That fucker hurt Coach, you fucking idiot! What do you mean you don’t want to hurt anyone!”

“I can’t…”

“Move! He deserves far fucking worse! Just let me do something for once! Just let me…” Words failed her; her eyes burned again. All that time, and she still couldn’t do anything right. She couldn’t save Coach or Beady. She couldn’t even hold back the thought that Coach was dead the moment she’d seen him. She couldn’t even hope. “Please, Bread. Move, please…”

“No, I can’t.”

“Fuck you.” She finally let her tears run; it streamed down her face nonstop. She didn’t get it. “Why are you on his side? Why are you always on everyone else’s side but mine! When I’m trying so much for you? Why the fuck!”

“Coach,” Bread muttered. “Coach said I should be myself, and that—that we were family…”

“Family?” She couldn’t control it anymore. All that burning sensation, that feeling she’d been holding down this entire time, came rushing back. “What family? He’s gone. He’s never coming back! What fucking family do we have!”

Because of me. All because of her. Because she had stolen that veil.

“I hate you. It’s your fault…” It was her fault. It was all her fault. “I hate you so so much…” She couldn’t scream anymore; her voice started to crack. “I wish I never found you!”

Sirens blared in the distance.