The smell of disinfectant was omnipresent, and the sterile white walls echoed the footsteps of passing guards. At the end of the hallway, Isaac, dressed in a hospital gown and Cornelius stood before Lucy’s room, their way effectively blocked by two guards in black uniforms. Both men had stony expressions and a posture that left no doubt that no one would pass.
“You don’t understand?! I have to talk to her!” Isaac burst out, his voice bouncing off the corridor walls. His light blue eyes glowed with anger and pain, as if each word hurt him more.
Cornelius sighed heavily, looking at his friend with visible frustration.
“Isaac, calm down,” he said quietly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “They won’t let us in. Lucy is being treated as a potential threat right now. This isn’t the place for scenes.”
“But I should be locked up, not her!” Isaac shouted, pushing Cornelius’s hand away. His fist hit the wall with a thud, leaving a small crack. “I did it all! She saw that massacre because of me! I killed them right in front of her! What do you think she’s feeling now?!”
image [https://i.postimg.cc/x8TtSQjP/462579211-3688630938094856-2265369498509438174-n.jpg]
The guards exchanged meaningful glances, their irritation becoming increasingly apparent.
“Please step away,” one of them said firmly, stepping toward Isaac. His hand rested on the boy’s shoulder, trying to move him away from the door. “This is not the place for discussions.”
But this only made things worse. In a surge of adrenaline, Isaac yanked away with all his might, breaking free from the guard’s grip. At the same moment, his hand found the doorknob, and the door swung open with a loud bang.
“Isaac, stop!” Cornelius shouted, trying to grab his hand, but it was too late.
The boy rushed inside, ignoring the guards’ protests.
However, the room was empty. The bed was in disarray—sheets crumpled, pillows scattered on the floor. The window was wide open, and the wind gently moved the white curtains, letting in a cool breeze.
Isaac stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in shock.
“Where is she?!” he cried, turning to the guards.
One of them quickly reached for his walkie-talkie, clearly trying to maintain professionalism despite the growing tension.
“Central, the suspect has escaped,” he said in a quick, firm tone. “I repeat, the suspect has escaped. Requesting backup.”
Cornelius entered after Isaac, inspecting the empty room. His gaze stopped at the open window.
“Well, at least we know she’s in shape,” he said with a hint of irony, nodding toward the window.
“Cornelius, this isn’t funny!” Isaac growled, looking at him angrily.
“You’re right, it’s not,” Cornelius replied with feigned seriousness. “But admit it, you got yourself into this. The guards already don’t like you, and now we have another problem.”
Isaac looked at the open window, clenching his fists.
“We have to find her,” he said with determination.
“Oh no, I’m not getting involved in this with you,” Cornelius replied, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. “The guards have their methods here. Better not interfere.”
But Isaac wasn’t listening. He ran to the window and leaned out, trying to see anything in the night’s darkness. The wind tousled his hair, and his expression revealed growing anxiety.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Cornelius muttered, leaning against the doorframe. There was more concern in his voice than he wanted to admit.
Fifteen minutes earlier.
The hospital room was silent. Lucy sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the letter lying on her lap. The words written on the paper seemed etched in her mind, repeating endlessly: “I want to see my family again.”
Her hands, still slightly trembling, slowly clenched the paper. She felt an icy chill running through her body. There was something irrevocable about it, something that made her heart beat faster, her breath shallower.
“I can’t let her do this...” she whispered, lifting her gaze to the window.
Lucy’s look at the world beyond the glass was determined, though a shadow of fear lingered in her eyes. Five floors. Once, such a height might have paralyzed her, but now the thought of danger was merely a minor inconvenience. Her past in the House of Roses taught her that fear was a luxury one couldn’t afford.
She took a step forward, ignoring the pain in her muscles. Her body was still sore, the wounds from the massacre at the stadium reminded her of their presence, but she had no time for rest.
“I have to stop her,” she repeated quietly, opening the window.
The cool night air hit her face, bringing the smell of rain and city dust. Lucy looked down. From this height, she could only see the asphalt road and a few parked cars.
As nimble as a shadow, she climbed onto the windowsill. Her hands gripped the window ledge tightly, and her breathing became deep and steady. Without a moment’s hesitation, she lowered herself onto the building’s outer wall, her feet searching for support in the narrow gaps between the panels.
Every movement was smooth, precise. Her fingers, despite the pain, gripped the rough surface firmly. The wind whipped her face, but she paid no attention to it. All the training from her past seemed to come alive in her body, and every step brought her closer to the ground.
After a moment, her feet touched the asphalt. Instead of relief, she felt increasing pressure. Thoughts swirled in her mind, each louder than the last. She couldn’t waste a second.
Lucy quickly disappeared into the shadows of the buildings, running through side streets, avoiding main roads where she could be spotted by the authorities. Her first destination was obvious—Sarah’s apartment.
She arrived after a few minutes, her breathing heavy, her body throbbing with pain. She ran up the stairs, almost breaking down the door.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Mom?!” she called, looking around frantically.
The apartment was empty. On the table lay a cup of unfinished tea, next to it stood a photo of Sarah with her husband and son. Lucy picked it up, her gaze becoming misty.
“Where are you...” she whispered, her voice trembling.
She clutched her head, trying to gather her thoughts. She didn’t know where else to look for her. Sarah wasn’t awakened, so she couldn’t follow her spiritual energy. Panic began to take control.
Then she remembered conversations about a new apartment in the skyscraper. “We’ll finally start a new life there,” her mother’s words echoed in her mind. It had to be the place.
Without thinking further, she ran out of the apartment. She ran across the city until she noticed the unfinished skyscraper.
She climbed up, struggling up each floor with an effort that seemed to exceed the limits of her wounded body. Pain throbbed in every part of her body, but Lucy ignored it, forcing herself to keep moving. Her heart pounded like a hammer, and each step echoed in the empty, unfinished skyscraper.
When she reached the eightieth floor, the wind whipped her face, bringing a cold, piercing chill. The open space resembled a skeleton, with no windows or barriers protecting against the abyss below. On the balcony, she saw her mother’s silhouette.
"Mum!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and filled with desperation. She ran towards her, ignoring her body's protests.
Sarah stood at the edge, lightly leaning against a metal pole. Her arms were down, and the wind blew through her hair. A smile appeared on her face—a sad, almost apologetic one.
"I'm sorry, Lucy…" she said quietly, turning her head towards her daughter. In her eyes, there was something that terrified Lucy more than anything else in her life. It was the look of complete resignation. "It's the only way I can see them again."
"NO!" Lucy screamed, lunging towards her.
Every step seemed to last forever. Her muscles burned, and her heart pounded like mad. She reached out, but she was too far. She couldn't reach her.
Sarah took a step back.
Time slowed, and the air was filled with the ominous sound of the wind. Lucy watched as her mother's figure disappeared over the edge. Her hand hung in the air, frozen in place.
"MUM!" she screamed once more, rushing to the balcony and leaning over the edge.
She looked down. Sarah's body fell in silence, hitting the metal bars of the structure. The final seconds of the fall seemed endless, and then…
The impact was dull, almost unreal, yet horrifyingly final. Her mother's body hit the concrete, spraying blood everywhere. A red stain spread around the motionless figure. Bones jutted out at odd angles, and her clothes were soaked with dark red.
The sight was like something out of a nightmare. Lucy felt the air leave her lungs. The world around her ceased to exist. She couldn't hear the wind or the sounds of the city. It was just her and that horrifying view.
Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to her knees, sliding onto the cold concrete. Tears started streaming down her face, blurring her vision.
"Mum…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The silence was almost tangible. Trembling, she bowed her head, then began to bang it against the hard surface of the balcony.
"Why…" she whispered between strikes. "Why?!"
Her scream tore through the silence, echoing off the empty walls of the building. The sob that escaped her throat was filled with despair and anger, a mixture of emotions that seemed to tear her apart from the inside.
After a moment, footsteps and voices reached her ears. It was the authorities. She had been found. One of the officers grabbed her shoulders, trying to lift her, but Lucy started struggling, breaking free from his grip.
"Leave me alone!" she shouted, trying to break free onto the balcony. Her eyes were wild, full of pain.
"Calm down!" another officer called, grabbing her hands and cuffing her to restrain her.
At that moment, Adam Karski arrived at the scene. His expression was stone-like, but his eyes betrayed fatigue and a shadow of sorrow. He approached the bloodstain, still steaming on the cold concrete, and covered Sarah's body with his coat.
He turned towards the struggling Lucy, who was still trying to break free from the officers' hold.
"I told you it was a bad idea…" he said quietly, looking at her with a mix of compassion and sternness.
Her gaze met his. She no longer had the strength to fight. The officers led her away from the scene, and Adam glanced once more at the blood-stained ground.
"When people are stripped even of revenge… They become empty shells…" he said to himself before walking away.
Because of her escape, the girl ended up in detention instead of the hospital.
The dark, damp cell was like her mind—closed, cold, and full of overwhelming shadows. Lucy sat on the cold, metal bunk, resting her elbows on her knees and staring at the floor. Guilt squeezed her heart like a vice, offering no relief.
Images of the past haunted her constantly. The faces of children who exploded at the stadium, their trusting eyes turning to terror and pain. Sarah's face, her mother's, whose pain, anger, and sadness were like a blade straight into her soul.
Each memory was heavier than the last, and each breath seemed harder to catch. She felt tears burning her cheeks, silently falling onto her knees. Her hands trembled, her nails digging into her skin.
"I can't take it anymore…" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the cell's silence.
She closed her eyes, but that only made things worse. In the darkness, she saw more clearly—the bloody stain Sarah left and her own reflection in her eyes when she confessed the truth.
The silence was broken by the faint creak of the door. Lucy slowly raised her head, as if forcing her body to react. In the cell's doorway stood a man in a bright courier uniform. His shirt was bright orange, emblazoned with the logo of the "KOI" company and a smiling goldfish.
"Hi," the man spoke in a light, almost joking tone, as if this were a casual street meeting. "My name's Bart."
image [https://i.postimg.cc/V6zFjwtc/462583107-913001257689469-2224604063233419617-n.jpg]
Lucy frowned, staring at him in disbelief. She didn't respond, as the question immediately popped into her head: "How did he get in here?"
Bart leaned casually against the doorframe and looked at her with a gentle smile.
"I know what you're feeling," he said calmly. "You feel like a wreck. Like someone who doesn't deserve to live. Right?"
Lucy turned away as if his words were too accurate to react to.
"But you know what?" he continued, tilting his head. "This isn't the end. This isn't your rock bottom."
Silence filled the cell. Lucy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but still said nothing.
Bart moved closer, stopping a few steps away from her.
"Your mother wanted peace on the other side," he said softly. "Don't ruin that for her. She doesn't need you joining her. You know what she needs? For you to do something about what happened."
His voice was firm, but not accusatory.
"You killed many people, didn't you?" he asked, watching her closely. "So now save twice as many. Show that you can be better. Show that you can be the hero you always wanted to be. Maybe then, when you meet her again… you'll be able to look her in the eyes."
Those words hit Lucy like lightning. Her eyes filled with tears, and her hands trembled even more.
"How do you…" she started, but her voice broke.
She looked up to see Bart, but… no one was there anymore.
"Who are you talking to?!" one of the guards shouted from outside, peering in suspiciously.
Lucy opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. She stared at the spot where the man had just stood, then collapsed back onto the bunk.
"Guess I'm really losing it…" she whispered, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Her words echoed in the cell's silence, leaving her alone with thoughts that now seemed even more overwhelming.