Elizabeth stood up, barely struggling as she forced her way to the front door, heavily stomping on the ground. She glared at Juro, her eyes accusing, but she didn’t say anything to him “Kristiansen said that Lilith is alive and is here. I’m not going to wait for that to play out. I’m checking on Camila.”

“You can’t go back, Elizabeth,” Bruno muttered, lifting his head from his hands. He didn’t bother asking about Lilith — not now.

Elizabeth glared at him, her eyes a cold fire. “And who are you to decide?”

“You’re impulsive,” Bruno retorted, clearly emotional and frustrated.

“You need me.”

“You’re the reason Alyssa died. You escalated everything,” he spat back, tears still running down his face.

Elizabeth pulled back for a moment, her eyes widening before quickly narrowing. She stormed up to him and pointed at him. “I should have left that Leith alive then, so he could have killed you, too.” Her words were a venom that was quickly suffocating him.

Juro was sitting on the couch now, his face buried in his hands as he whispered incoherently to himself. He was panicked, trying to think of what to do as the pressure of Victor showing up was weighing down on him.

Bruno whipped to face Morrigan. “Look at all the blood on Juro!” He cried. “He’s still alive, because you healed him! So, why is Alyssa dead?” He was inconsolable, shaking now as he glared at her; she wiggled the cigarette between her two fingers and watched the small flame at the tip eat through the paper.

Her voice was lowered, deep, as she said, “You really think I would have done that?”

“I know you would. I watched you do it. My god, you completely mutilated her.”

Elizabeth looked at Bruno for a moment before bursting into a vicious bout of laughter. “Can you even hear yourself! Now you go out and blame her! Do you ever think it was your fault? If you weren’t so idiotic and didn’t try to sacrifice yours—”

Morrigan cut her off. “None of us wanted this to happen, Bruno. Not one person here. I can promise you that I really did try,” she insisted, stamping out the cigarette on a dish. “We sent a message. To everyone in that room.”

“You sound just like them, Morrigan,” Bruno interjected. “Nothing worked out tonight. Alyssa is dead.”

“You’re being cruel,” Morrigan said, a sob choking through the middle of her words. “You’re not the only one hurting right now.”

Bruno collapsed on the couch, his face contorting as he tried to quell his emotions. “How many more times do people need to die in front of you for you to help them, Morrigan? How many more times?”

Morrigan’s face instantly fell as tears gushed out from her eyes, only ever pausing for a moment when they got stuck on her eyelids. Morrigan let out an incoherent sound before she fell onto the ground, covering her face.

“Oh, shut up!” Elizabeth screamed, voice loud and deafening. “Do you think Alyssa wanted to live in a world like this? Never!”

“At least she would be alive!” Bruno shrieked, standing up. “She would still be here and we’d still be playing drinking games and sitting together on that rug, and, goddamnit, nothing matters more than that!” He met Elizabeth’s flaming eyes, and although he was much shorter than her, his furious energy matched hers.

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Elizabeth looked cooly down at him. “Maybe if you weren’t so useless, she would be alive.”

Juro jumped up from the seat and forced his way between the two. “Oh, just stop it! This isn’t what Alyssa would have wanted.” Elizabeth steadied herself after being forced back while Bruno clung onto Juro, crying onto his shoulder. Juro began walking Bruno down the hall, looking for a room he could stay in.

“What are you going to do Juro? Just go and run back to Josephine while you’re at it!” Elizabeth mocked as he walked away.

Morrigan finally spoke up, voice hard and serious. “Elizabeth, stop. That’s enough.” Morrigan got onto her feet, legs shaking. “Leave them alone. I’m going to go outside for some fresh air.” She wiped her face with her dirted hands, leaving brown smudges on her translucent skin, as she headed out.

Despite Elizabeth’s glare, she didn’t say anything else. The two of them headed out, Elizabeth slamming the front door, while Bruno could still be heard crying in the other room.

***

“Bruno…” Juro began before trailing off, gently setting Bruno on the bed. Juro fished through the closet to find some clothes that would be more comfortable, opting for all loose, black attire.

Bruno rolled over on the bed, belly down, and cried into the fabric, shoulders and back heaving up and down with each breath.

“We’re all upset right now Bruno, but she didn’t have the right to say any of that to you. It wasn’t your fault, okay?” Juro wet a towel in the bathroom before wiping the grim from his body.

He never answered other than the sobs that traveled through him like seismic waves. He continued to lay there, never once looking up to face Juro. When he turned his head, Juro noticed his dark brown eyes, red and puffy, looking like large, glistening stones from the tears.

“You can stay here for as long as you want. We’ll get that notebook for you, ‘kay?”

Bruno finally turned to face him. “Why aren’t you crying,” he asked, almost childlike.

Juro gave a solemn smile as he opened the door, getting ready to leave. “I don’t know. I wish I was.” The door softly clicked behind him, like he was terrified of disturbing Bruno.

Bruno heard his grotesque breathing in his ears and gripped the bedsheets harder, feeling them crinkle between his fingers. His throat felt dry, but he was sweating, and the fabric of his clothes seemed to cling onto him and suffocate him. He rolled over, trying to breathe in the room of cold air, but he found himself choking and hacking on his own sobs.

Would it have turned out this way if we never met? He got up, stumbling on his feet as the room seemed to sway and his limbs moved as if they were controlled by an amateur puppeteer, chaotic and limp. He headed over to the window, barely realizing his change of attire until he searched through his pockets. He walked back to his jacket coat and pulled out an array of pictures he had taken with the group earlier. Sifting out all except for the one with Alyssa, he threw them onto the nightstand before opening the window.

He could hear Juro pounding on the sofa outside — slow, rhythmic. It came repeatedly over and over again, never growing or diminishing in pressure, until he could finally hear Juro’s outburst, shouting and kicking the sofa before yelping in pain.

Bruno felt the small snowflakes drift onto his skin and felt the sorrow welding up in his chest again and the cool prickles. I’ll get your journal, Alyssa. I think that’s the last thing I’m left knowing about you. That you wanted me to have it.

He heard the front door burst open, a gruff voice shouting before a loud slam shook the walls of the house. Bruno could hear the commotion inside the house but paid no attention to it, the cold prickles still drawing in all of his attention. Bruno readjusted the hem of his pants before stepping out of the window, breathing in the cold air. It no longer felt freeing to him.

That was the day Bruno left.