Chapter 30
The night was thick with smoke and heat, the crackling of flames consuming the once quiet neighborhood. Vo’s house had become an inferno, its walls groaning under the relentless blaze, casting an ominous orange glow against the dark sky. Firefighters shouted orders to one another, their figures barely visible through the haze, while hoses spewed water in desperate streams that seemed to do nothing to tame the fire’s hunger. The air was thick and suffocating, each breath tainted with ash and the acrid scent of burning wood. Somewhere in the chaos, a firefighter’s voice cut through: “We’ve got remains inside!” The words landed like a weight in the air, a final confirmation of what Izzy already knew in her gut—Vo was gone.
Izzy stood frozen on the sidewalk, the flickering glow of the fire reflected in her wide, unblinking eyes. She barely registered the movement around her—firefighters rushing to and fro, the blare of sirens in the distance, the murmurs of the gathering crowd. The world felt muted, distant, as if it were happening to someone else. In that moment, the last threads of stability in her life were being severed. Vo, who had been her only tether after her father and Nico slipped away, was now nothing more than a memory consumed by fire. Izzy’s chest tightened as grief gnawed at her insides, but behind that grief, something darker stirred. Helplessness, a feeling she had lived with for too long, began to twist into something more volatile—anger.
Amidst the roar of the fire, something deep within Izzy began to stir—a faint pull she couldn’t quite place. Her mind flickered to the mask, the one locked away in the chest at Maria’s house. She hadn't thought about it in days, but now it pushed its way into her thoughts, uninvited. There was something about the mask, an almost magnetic pull that whispered of power and control—things she craved more than ever in that moment. The memory of the chest’s contents felt heavy in her mind, like it was waiting for her, calling to her, as if it held the answer to everything slipping away. Izzy tried to shake the feeling, but it was already too late. The thought had rooted itself, and no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, the mask lingered at the edges of her mind, dark and alluring.
The intense heat blurred the edges of reality, and as Izzy stared into the roaring flames, memories she had long buried began to resurface. Her mind dragged her back to that fateful night in Brazil, the night her family had died. The fire—the same relentless, consuming blaze—had taken everything from her. She could remember the crackling of flames, the suffocating smoke, and the overwhelming helplessness as she watched her world burn. Izzy’s hands trembled, her breath coming in shallow gasps. For years, she had pushed that memory down, convinced herself it was behind her, but now it felt closer than ever. The fire in front of her wasn’t just destroying Vo’s house; it was reigniting the trauma she thought she had escaped.
The world around Izzy faded into the background, her mind spinning as the past and present blurred together. She couldn’t tell if the heat on her skin was from Vo’s burning house or from that night in Brazil. Everything felt too familiar—the flames, the smoke, the choking feeling of losing everything. She bit down hard on her lip, trying to pull herself out of the spiral, but the more she tried, the deeper she sank into the memories. Izzy’s chest tightened, and her eyes stung, not just from the smoke, but from the mounting grief and anger swirling inside her. "It’s happening all over again..." she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in it—caught in a cycle of destruction, powerless to stop the fire from taking everything from her once more.
A firefighter’s shout cut through the haze, pulling Izzy back to the present. “You need to move back! It’s not safe here!” the man yelled, waving her away from the blaze. But Izzy didn’t move. Her body felt like it was made of stone, rooted to the ground as she stared at the fire, her mind still locked in the past. Then, something inside her snapped. With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, a primal scream tore from her throat—a scream filled with years of pent-up rage, pain, and helplessness. The sound reverberated through the air, silencing the surrounding chaos for a moment. Izzy’s knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground, her body trembling as waves of emotion crashed over her. Vo was gone. Just like her family. And she had been powerless to stop it. Again.
Izzy remained on the ground, her body racked with silent sobs as the weight of everything she had lost bore down on her. Time slipped away; she had no idea how long she lay there, her tears mixing with the ash and soot on her skin. The world around her blurred, and the noise of the fire, the shouts of the firefighters, all faded into a dull hum. The intensity of her grief was overwhelming, dragging her down into a pit of exhaustion. Finally, as her body gave in to the emotional strain, Izzy collapsed fully, the cold pavement beneath her offering no comfort. The last thing she saw before the darkness overtook her was the glow of the flames, flickering in the distance like the remnants of everything she had ever loved. Then, nothing.
Izzy woke with a start, her body aching from the cold, hard surface beneath her. Her vision was blurry at first, the world slowly coming back into focus. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The fire was gone, replaced by the sterile overhead lights of a room. She was lying on a bed, unfamiliar and stiff, and as she sat up, disoriented, she realized she wasn’t in her own home. The room smelled faintly of cleaning products and wood polish, and it took a moment for her to recognize it as Roberto’s room. Her head throbbed, and a wave of confusion washed over her. How had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was collapsing in front of Vo’s burning house. But now, everything felt disjointed, like she was trapped in someone else’s memory.
As Izzy swung her legs over the side of the bed, the dull ache in her muscles reminded her just how long she had been lying there. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the small chest sitting on the desk in the corner. For a moment, everything else faded. The chest looked out of place, but at the same time, it felt like it belonged there—like it had been waiting for her all along. Next to it, a brand-new laptop still in its box sat untouched, a sticky note slapped onto the top that read: "For school... when you’re ready." The sight of it twisted something in her chest, a mix of guilt and sorrow swelling inside her. But it was the chest that held her attention, its dark wood and silver fox relief gleaming in the soft light of the room. Her mind was drawn to it, memories of Vo’s death crashing back in vivid, painful detail.
As the memories of the previous night came flooding back, Izzy felt a sob escape her lips, the weight of Vo's death crashing over her all at once. She hadn’t been able to save her, just like her family. She buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cried for what felt like an eternity. The fire, the helplessness, the unbearable sense of loss—it all wrapped around her, suffocating her in a blanket of grief. She had been strong for so long, but now, alone in this room, she allowed herself to break. Vo was gone, and so was the last semblance of stability in her life. Izzy wept for her, for her father, for her shattered childhood, and for all the pieces of herself she had lost along the way.
Eventually, the tears slowed, and Izzy was left sitting on the edge of the bed, drained and hollow. Her chest ached from sobbing, and her head felt heavy, as if it were weighed down by all the grief she had carried for so long. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt, staring blankly at the floor, her mind numb. But the stillness in the room was broken by the faintest pull, a presence she couldn’t ignore—the chest. Its mere existence seemed to hum with quiet energy, calling to her in a way that felt deeper than curiosity. Izzy lifted her head, her gaze locking onto it again. It wasn’t just a box anymore—it was a temptation, an answer to the chaos swirling inside her. And with that pull came a thought she couldn’t shake: maybe the key to controlling the pain, the anger, the helplessness... was inside.
Izzy tore her gaze away from the chest, her breathing still ragged as she fought the magnetic pull it seemed to have over her. She couldn’t face it, not yet. Whatever waited inside felt like it held more weight than she could bear right now. She needed a way out—a way to silence the noise in her head, to push back the flood of grief and the memories clawing their way to the surface. Leaving the room, her footsteps felt heavy and unsteady as she wandered aimlessly down the hall. The house was quiet, but too full of life compared to the chaos roiling inside her. She passed Carlos' bedroom, the door half-open, the faint smell of weed clinging to the air. Izzy's eyes drifted to his dresser, where a small plastic bag of weed lay haphazardly next to his scattered belongings. Her breath hitched slightly, the idea forming before she could even stop herself.
Izzy stepped carefully into Carlos' room, her heart pounding harder with each step, though she wasn’t sure if it was from guilt or the sheer need to shut off her mind. The smell of weed was stronger here, and as her eyes locked onto the small plastic bag on the dresser, she felt a sense of determination take hold. She needed something to take the edge off, to push back the flood of pain and chaos swirling inside her. Just as her fingers closed around the bag, the sound of soft waddling feet behind her made her freeze. Ben Quackflack, Carlos’ loyal duck, waddled into the room, his beady eyes landing on her as he let out a sharp, quacking noise. Izzy’s heart leapt into her throat, and before she could move, Carlos appeared in the doorway, smirking as he took in the scene.
Carlos leaned casually against the doorframe, his grin widening as he crossed his arms over his chest. "If you wanted some, all you had to do was ask," he said, his voice light and teasing. He nodded toward Ben Quackflack, who had waddled over to his feet, eyeing Izzy with what almost seemed like judgment. "Even the princess wouldn’t mind," Carlos added, chuckling softly. But there was a softness in his eyes, a subtle hint of concern beneath the humor. He didn’t scold her, didn’t pry, but his presence alone made Izzy’s stomach twist with guilt. She hadn’t wanted to be seen, to be caught in the act of trying to escape her pain.
Before Izzy could say anything, Maria appeared behind Carlos, her expression far less amused. She marched into the room, her eyes sharp as they flicked from the bag in Izzy’s hand to Carlos standing in the doorway. “Carlos!” she snapped, her voice carrying that familiar mix of love and exasperation. “She’s sixteen, for God’s sake! You shouldn’t be so easygoing about this!” She turned to Izzy, her tone softening but still firm. “And you—this isn’t how you deal with what’s going on, mija. This won’t make any of it better.” Her hands were on her hips now, her eyes filled with both concern and a frustration born from watching someone she cared about unravel. Izzy wanted to shrink under Maria’s gaze, but the truth was, she couldn’t even muster the energy to argue. She just wanted everything to stop.
Izzy looked down at the bag in her hand, the weight of Maria’s words pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. This won’t make it better. Deep down, she knew it was true, but it didn’t stop the gnawing emptiness inside her from craving some kind of escape—anything to numb the pain that had been building for so long. She avoided Maria’s eyes, her grip tightening around the bag, but the shame was already settling in. It’s not about being better, she thought. It’s about making it stop, even for just a little while. The room felt too full, too alive, and all she wanted was to slip back into the quiet, to forget everything. But now, with Maria watching her so closely, Izzy felt like she was suffocating under the weight of her expectations.
Maria sighed, her expression softening but not losing its firmness. She stepped closer, her hand gently but decisively reaching out. "Put it back, Izzy," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument but laced with concern. It wasn’t an order made in anger; it was a plea to the girl she cared for, a way of pulling her back from the edge she was teetering on. Izzy hesitated, her fingers still wrapped tightly around the bag as if it was her last lifeline, but the look in Maria’s eyes wouldn’t let her hold onto it any longer. Slowly, reluctantly, she crossed the room and placed the bag back on Carlos’ dresser, the crinkling sound of the plastic filling the heavy silence between them. Izzy felt exposed, like every struggle inside her was on display, and all she wanted was to disappear.
Maria watched as Izzy put the bag back, her face softening further as the tension in the room eased. With a gentle sigh, she brushed a strand of hair from Izzy’s face and nodded toward the kitchen. “Come on, lunch is ready,” she said, her voice warm but firm, giving Izzy no choice but to follow. She turned to Carlos, who was leaning against the doorframe, still with that casual grin. “And you, Carlos,” she added with a small shake of her head, “you’re late for work. Again.” Carlos gave a sheepish shrug but didn’t move. Izzy, on the other hand, felt like the air was still too thick, too heavy. Without another word, she slipped out of the room, already thinking about the chest upstairs, its pull stronger than ever now.
Izzy walked out of the room, her feet moving automatically as she made her way down the hall. The house felt suffocating, too full of life—Carlos joking, Maria fussing, the smells of food filling the air. It was everything she wasn’t. As she headed toward the kitchen, she could hear Carlos in the background, making excuses about being late, but none of it mattered. Her mind was already drifting, tugged back toward the chest upstairs. The pull was stronger now, lingering at the edges of her thoughts, but she forced herself to push it aside. She wasn’t ready to face whatever was locked inside. Not yet. She took a deep breath and entered the kitchen, the scent of lunch hitting her like a wall, even though she wasn’t sure if she could stomach any of it.
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As Izzy entered the kitchen, the warmth of the room hit her, but instead of comfort, it felt stifling. Maria moved around with ease, setting plates on the table as if everything were normal, as if the world hadn’t just crumbled around Izzy. The smell of freshly cooked food—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup—filled the air, but Izzy felt a knot in her stomach instead of hunger. She stood awkwardly by the doorway, feeling disconnected from the simple domestic routine unfolding in front of her. It was like watching a scene from someone else’s life. Izzy wanted to slip out, to be anywhere but here, but Maria caught her eye and motioned for her to sit. Reluctantly, she stepped forward and sank into the chair at the table, her mind still miles away, fixated on the chest upstairs.
Izzy stared down at the plate in front of her, the sandwich untouched, steam rising from the bowl of soup. She could hear Maria and Carlos talking in the background—something about his work at the shop, or maybe a story about one of his customers—but the words felt distant, like they were being spoken underwater. Izzy picked up the sandwich out of habit, but as she took a bite, the taste was bland, her senses dulled by the weight of her thoughts. The pull of the chest upstairs nagged at her, a quiet voice in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake. She chewed slowly, trying to force herself to focus on the food, on the conversation, but it was useless. Everything in this house felt too normal, too alive, and Izzy felt like a shadow sitting at the table.
Unable to stand the heaviness pressing down on her, Izzy abruptly pushed her chair back, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that cut through the conversation. Maria and Carlos both looked up, startled, but Izzy avoided their eyes as she stood. "I'm not hungry," she muttered, her voice flat and distant, betraying none of the storm swirling inside her. She could feel Maria’s concerned gaze following her as she turned and left the kitchen, but she didn’t stop. The pull of the chest was too strong now, impossible to ignore. As she climbed the stairs, her footsteps quickened, her heart pounding louder with each step. Whatever waited for her inside that chest, it was time to face it.
As Izzy reached the top of the stairs, her hand hovering over the door to Roberto’s room, Carlos’ voice called up to her from the kitchen, casual but genuine. “Hey, Izzy—you wanna get outta the house for a bit?” She paused, her heart still racing, the pull of the chest tugging at her, but she turned slightly, listening. “I was heading to the shop later, figured we could swing by and see Andreas. Maybe meet my buddy Xavier—heard you like techy stuff, and he’s all about that. You two would hit it off.” There was a lightness to his tone, but beneath it, a quiet attempt to offer her an escape—an offer to distract her from whatever storm she was carrying.
Izzy stood frozen at the door for a moment, her fingers grazing the handle. The chest's pull was strong, a constant hum in the back of her mind, but Carlos’ words cut through the noise. She wanted to escape, to run from the weight pressing down on her. With a shaky breath, she let her hand fall from the door. "Yeah... sure," she called back, her voice barely louder than a whisper. The chest and its contents could wait. She had bigger things on her mind—things she needed to say to Andreas. Ever since he had shown up at the police station, her life had spiraled. Nico was gone. Vo was gone. And in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it all started with him. She had words for him, and they weren’t going to be kind.
Izzy descended the stairs slowly, her mind still tangled with grief, anger, and the growing knot of blame directed at Andreas. She could hear Carlos rustling around by the door, already grabbing his keys. "Come on, let’s roll," he said, giving her a sideways grin, as if everything was just a normal afternoon. But nothing felt normal. As they stepped outside, the cool air hit her, offering a brief sense of relief from the suffocating house, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. Every step toward the van felt heavier with the weight of the past few months—the unraveling of her life ever since Andreas had entered it. Nico was ripped away from her, and now Vo was gone. She could feel the bitterness welling up inside, ready to spill over when she saw him.
Carlos’ old VW van rattled to life as they pulled away from the house, the engine sputtering in that familiar, clunky way that always seemed to calm everyone but Izzy. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, barely registering the streets passing by. Her mind was elsewhere—circling around Andreas, the man who had turned her life upside down. She remembered the day he showed up, calm and in control, back at the police station. It felt like the ground shifted under her feet the moment he entered her world. Nico was gone within days after that, and now Vo. The connection felt too sharp to ignore, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Izzy clenched her fists in her lap, trying to keep the anger from bubbling over too soon. Andreas had answers, and she wasn’t leaving without them.
The drive felt longer than it was, the rattling of the van and Carlos' easy chatter barely registering with Izzy as she stared blankly out the window. Every bump in the road seemed to echo the tension coiling tighter inside her. The closer they got to Andreas' law office, the heavier her thoughts became. Her fingers drummed nervously on her leg, emotions threatening to spill over. Carlos was still talking—something about a customer from his shop—but Izzy wasn’t listening. All she could think about was Andreas and how everything had unraveled since he stepped into her life. When the van finally turned the corner and the sign for De La Vega, Attorney at Law came into view, her stomach twisted. This is it, she thought, her jaw tightening. Time to get answers.
Carlos parked the van in the small strip plaza, the familiar sight of his weed shop just a few doors down. Izzy glanced around, taking in the three storefronts—Carlos’ shop, De La Vega, Attorney at Law, and Xavier’s computer shop on the other side, with two empty storefronts sandwiched between. The plaza was quiet, almost eerily so, compared to the storm churning inside her. As she stepped out of the van, the sight of Andreas’ office—calm, professional, and polished—clashed with the chaos of her thoughts. She could feel the tension building with every step she took toward the door. Carlos lingered by his shop, calling after her, “Andreas is probably inside, working. Xavier’s around, too, if you want to meet him later.” But Izzy barely acknowledged him. She was already too focused on Andreas, her fists clenched at her sides. Everything in her life had unraveled since he’d shown up. She was here for answers.
Izzy pushed open the door to De La Vega, Attorney at Law, the quiet ding of the door chime sounding far too peaceful for the turmoil raging inside her. The office was tidy and professional, with neatly arranged chairs and framed military medals and certificates lining the walls—Andreas' old Marine Corps sniper and JAG accommodations. It was a stark contrast to the mess her life had become. Her eyes skimmed over the degrees and honors, each one making her feel more disconnected from the man behind them. Andreas was at his desk, hunched over a pile of paperwork, his focus absolute. He didn’t even notice her at first. Izzy stood there for a moment, her fists still clenched, the words she wanted to say bubbling up in her chest. It felt like the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for her to shatter the silence. And she was more than ready to do just that.
Izzy took a deep breath, then stepped forward, her voice cutting through the silence. “You,” she said, the word sharp and heavy with anger. Andreas looked up from his paperwork, his brow furrowing in confusion at first, but as he met Izzy’s eyes, understanding washed over him. He set his pen down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “My life has been falling apart ever since you showed up,” Izzy continued, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and grief. “I lost Nico, and now I’ve lost Vo. Everything’s gone because of you.” The words tumbled out faster than she could stop them, her fists tightening at her sides. It wasn’t rational—deep down, she knew that—but in this moment, Andreas was the closest thing she had to a target for her pain. And she needed someone to blame.
Andreas remained calm, his eyes never leaving Izzy’s as she unleashed her anger. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to defend himself. He just let her words wash over him. When she finally paused, catching her breath, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Izzy,” he said, his voice calm but steady. “But blaming me won’t bring Nico back. And it won’t change what happened to Vo.” His words were soft, but they cut through the room like a blade. Izzy felt her chest tighten, her anger flaring up even more at his composed response. He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t fighting back. It only made her feel more out of control. “You don’t get it,” she snapped, her voice rising. “You come into my life out of nowhere, and everything falls apart. I never asked for this, and I never asked for you.”
Andreas didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he stood up slowly, moving around the desk to stand in front of her. His gaze softened, but his tone remained firm. “You’re right, you didn’t ask for any of this,” he said, keeping his voice low but unyielding. “But neither did I. I showed up because you needed protection, whether you realized it or not.” Izzy felt a surge of heat rise in her chest, her fists still clenched at her sides. Protection? What good had that done? She stepped closer, anger radiating off her. “Protection? From what? From losing everything?” Her voice cracked on the last word, frustration and sorrow mixing in a way she couldn’t control. She had been holding it together for so long, and now it was all unraveling right here, in front of him. “You haven’t protected me from anything.”
Andreas watched her carefully, his expression unchanging, but there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes—regret, maybe, or understanding. He let out a slow breath before speaking. “I know you’ve lost a lot, Izzy. More than most people your age should ever have to.” His voice was steady, but softer now, as if he were trying to pull her back from the edge. “But there are things happening around you—things bigger than just you and me. I’ve been trying to keep you safe, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.” Izzy shook her head, her vision blurring with unshed tears, a mix of fury and grief. She didn’t want his understanding, his pity. “Safe?” she shot back, her voice rising again. “I don’t feel safe. I feel abandoned. I feel like I’ve lost everything, and you’re just... standing there.” Her fists unclenched as she wiped angrily at her eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall.
The tears Izzy had fought so hard to suppress were now dangerously close to spilling over, her voice breaking as she spoke. “You think this is about something bigger than me? I’ve lost my father, Nico, and now Vo—what else is there? What am I supposed to care about when everything I’ve ever known is gone?” She stepped even closer, her chest heaving, eyes locked on Andreas, waiting for him to show any sign that he understood, that he wasn’t just offering her empty words. But Andreas didn’t waver. His gaze remained steady, his voice low but firm. “I’m not going to pretend I understand your pain, Izzy. But what you’re feeling right now, it’s what they want. It’s what will keep you from seeing the bigger picture.” He let the words settle for a moment, his calmness in stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling around her. “I didn’t come here to ruin your life. I came because someone had to.”
For a moment, Izzy stood there, her mind reeling. Part of her wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him that nothing he said would ever make up for the loss she had endured. But another part of her—one that she had been burying beneath the anger—was starting to hear the truth in his words. Her breathing slowed as she stared at him, her fists finally unclenching. "The bigger picture?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hollow. "What could possibly be bigger than losing everything I care about?" The rage inside her was still there, burning hot, but there was something else now—confusion, and maybe even a sliver of doubt. Andreas watched her carefully, sensing the shift. “There are forces at play here that took your father, that pulled Nico away, and that led to Vo’s death,” he said quietly. “But if you let this anger consume you, you’ll never be able to face them.”
Izzy stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest as Andreas’ words slowly sank in. The forces that had taken everything from her, the ones responsible for tearing her life apart—it wasn’t random. It wasn’t just her. Her jaw clenched as she struggled to hold onto her anger, but cracks were beginning to form in the wall she had built around herself. “So what, I’m just supposed to let it go?” she said, her voice trembling, filled with a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. She wanted to keep holding Andreas responsible, to keep blaming him for everything that had happened, but his calmness was wearing her down. Andreas shook his head slowly. “I’m not asking you to let it go, Izzy,” he said, his voice steady but filled with something deeper, almost a plea. “I’m asking you to understand that there’s a fight coming. And if you don’t control this, it’s going to control you.”
Something inside Izzy snapped. She couldn't take it anymore—the calm logic of Andreas' words felt like a suffocating weight pressing down on her chest. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the idea that she had to just control her anger and move forward, like the world wasn’t crumbling around her. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, her footsteps heavy and fast as she pushed through the door. The cold air hit her like a slap in the face, but it didn’t slow her down. She needed to move, to act, to find Nico. Her mind was already racing with the familiar streets and alleyways that led to him, her heart pounding in time with her hurried steps. She wasn’t going to wait for answers anymore—she was going to take them.
The storm clouds overhead matched the one brewing inside Izzy as she cut through the familiar streets of the neighborhood. Every step felt more urgent, more desperate. The rain had started to fall, soft at first, then harder, soaking through her hoodie, but she didn’t care. Her thoughts were laser-focused on Nico—where he’d be, how she’d find him, and what she’d do when she did. She didn’t need a plan; the anger driving her was enough. The past few months of helplessness and loss churned inside her, and now it all pointed in one direction—toward the one person who could give her answers. She had tried to move on, but Nico was always there, in the back of her mind. This time, she wasn’t going to let him disappear without a fight.
Izzy wandered through the rain-soaked streets of her neighborhood, her footsteps quick but uncertain. Every corner she passed brought memories of what her life used to be—places she had once considered safe, familiar. She walked past the old corner store where she and Nico had hung out countless times, its windows fogged up and glowing dimly in the storm. She glanced at the basketball court nearby, where Nico and his crew used to play, but now it stood empty, the net sagging under the weight of rain. The deeper she ventured into the neighborhood, the more the sense of loss gnawed at her. Every place felt like a ghost of her past, and with each step, she could feel Nico slipping further out of reach.
The rain fell harder as Izzy pushed on, her hoodie soaked through, but she barely noticed. She checked every spot she could think of—the alley behind the convenience store where Nico used to meet up with friends, the park bench where he would sit for hours with a cigarette dangling from his lips, even the dimly lit diner they used to eat at when they were younger. Each place was empty, only adding to the growing frustration inside her. The more she searched, the more it felt like she was chasing a ghost. Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides as she walked, her breath coming in quick bursts. Nico had to be somewhere—he always was. But now, it felt like the city was swallowing him up, keeping him just out of her reach.
As Izzy turned another corner, her steps faltered. There, under the faint glow of a streetlight, stood Nico, leaning casually against a brick wall. He was talking with a small group of people, but Izzy's eyes quickly locked onto the girl beside him—Janelle, a girl from Izzy’s old school, barely fifteen. The rain ran down her face, mixing with the streaks of smeared makeup. What caught Izzy’s attention, though, were the dark bruises crawling up Janelle’s neck, disappearing beneath her thin jacket. She stood too close to Nico, her body language familiar and intimate, like she had taken the place Izzy once held.. Izzy’s stomach churned, a flash of rage and disgust twisting inside her. Nico glanced around, his eyes barely brushing past Izzy before she turned and walked away, not saying a word. There was nothing to say—she knew what she had to do.