Face-down on the floor. Lip split from a fall she never remembered. Burn marks on her arm from a glass pipe she forgot was still hot. Me, six years old, trying to scrub dried blood off cracked tile before the landlord came up to scream again.Trying not to cry because if she woke up to tears, she'd blame me for ruining her high.
I couldn’t save my mother.
I couldn’t save Brynn.
Fuck, why didn’t he say anything? Why the fuck didn’t he just tell me the truth instead of letting me go on thinking he had her taken out, thinking he wanted her dead for selling on his turf?
Why the fuck let me turn into this?
And Blair—fuck. Blair.
What I did to her—fuck. I didn’t mean to. Not really. Maybe at first, yeah, I got close to make Dagger bleed. She was his soft spot, and I wanted to shove a knife right through it. But I didn’t plan to use her like that. Not all the way. Not like I did.
I let it happen.
I let her fall into the mess I was making, let her get high on the chaos I was feeding her, and all the while I told myself I was doing it for Brynn. For revenge. For justice.
But the truth?
I fucked up. I used her. Treated her like a weapon in a war she never signed up for. I saw the signs. The way she chased that high, the way the light in her eyes flickered just like Brynn’s used to. I should’ve pulled her out then. Should’ve saved her. I wanted to.
Itriedto.
But I was too deep in my own guilt. Too twisted up in payback and pain to see I was dragging her down right alongside me.
And somewhere in the wreckage, I started caring.
Startedcravingher.
It stopped being about Dagger a long time ago, but I didn’t change fast enough. Didn’t fix what I broke.
And now she looks at me I know she’s about to walk away, and fuck I deserve it.
I should’ve walked away the second I felt something. The second she said my name like she meant it.
But I didn’t.
Because I’m a selfish fuck. Because I wanted her to see me. Because some sick part of me thought maybe if I could keep her close, I’d finally make up for the fact that I let Brynn slip through my fingers.
And now? Now she knows what I am. What I’ve done, and I don’t know if there’s anything left to salvage.
I look at Blair and everything inside me fucking fractures. She’s not just some girl. She’s not just a mirror of what I lost. She’s more. And I used her anyway.
“I didn’t mean to—” I start, but she shakes her head.
“No. Don’t you fucking spin it. You wanted to fuck me, and you knew the whole time you were lying. Hiding shit. You knew exactly what starting this with Dagger would do—you meant to light that fuse. Don’t act like you just tripped into it.”
Silence crashes between us. My throat’s tight. My chest is worse, and for a second, I just fucking stand there, watching her cry in Dagger’s T-shirt, hating me in every possible way.
She steps back. Wipes her face. Her voice is quieter when she says, “You didn’t lose Brynn, Noir. You let her go.”
That one tears me open.
Because she’s right, and now? Now it’s too fucking late.
I’ve been burning everything down in Dagger’s direction for no reason. I've got three bodies in my rearview. Two pill drops destroyed. A third one hanging off my shoulder.
All for fucking nothing. Because Dagger didn’t kill her.
