For his entire life—
he had been afraid.
Afraid of footsteps behind him.
Afraid of raised voices.
Afraid of hands reaching for him.
Afraid of Jack.
But nothing—
NOTHING—
had ever hurt as much as the sight of her bleeding in his arms.
Her breath fading.
Her warmth slipping.
Her fingers growing cold.
"Don't leave me… please… don't leave," he whispered, choking,
his tears falling onto her cheek.
Behind him, Jack scoffed loudly.
"Pathetic. Crying over a tool? Over a liar?"
He chuckled darkly.
"She was never yours. She was MINE. She was doing a job! Wake up!"
Something snapped.
Not gently.
Not slowly.
It snapped like a bone breaking in the dark.
The boy's shoulders shook,
but not in fear—
in rage.
A deep, raw, animalistic rage he had never felt before.
He placed her gently on the floor, trembling…
then stood up.
Jack laughed.
"Oh? You're standing now? Going to cry at me again? Beg like before?"
The boy didn't answer.
He didn't look afraid.
He didn't look broken.
He looked like someone who had finally lost everything that kept him human.
His tears were still running—
but his eyes…
His eyes were different.
Dead.
Cold.
Focused.
Jack frowned, lowering the gun a little.
"What's wrong with your face?" he asked, annoyed.
"Stop looking at me like—"
He didn't finish.
The boy moved.
Fast.
Faster than Jack expected.
With a scream that tore from his chest—
a scream made of years of bruises,
years of humiliation,
years of nightmares,
years of wishing he could fight back.
He threw himself at Jack with all the strength he had ever denied himself.
He slammed into him so hard the gun flew from Jack's hand and clattered across the floor.
Jack stumbled backward, shocked.
"What the— GET OFF—"
But the boy grabbed his shirt with shaking fists
and punched him.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
Every punch was a sob.
Every sob was a memory.
Every memory was a wound that finally bled outward.
"You hurt me!"
punch
"You broke me!"
punch
"I begged you to stop!"
punch, punch, punch
"You hurt HER!"
another punch
"YOU HURT HER—YOU HURT HER—YOU HURT—"
Jack raised his arms to block, but the boy didn't stop.
He couldn't stop.
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with sweat and blood,
his screams echoing off the walls like something feral.
Jack finally fell to the floor,
shocked, breathless,
unable to comprehend that the same boy who once trembled at his footsteps
was now on top of him,
punching, shaking,
breaking.
"WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!" the boy screamed,
voice cracking.
"She cared about me!
SHE CARED ABOUT ME!"
His voice collapsed into a broken whisper:
"…and I cared about her…"
His fists trembled mid-air.
He stopped punching.
His chest heaved.
His tears fell onto Jack's shirt.
Jack stared up at him, stunned—
for the first time in his life,
not in control.
Not the monster.
Not the predator.
Just a man being confronted by the very fear he created.
The boy's voice broke into a whisper—
raw, shredded, heartbreaking:
"I wasn't afraid of you today…
I was afraid of losing her."
He collapsed to the floor beside Jack,
sobbing so violently his entire body shook.
And Jack—
for once—
had nothing to say.
Nothing at all.
Silence filled the warehouse.
His breathing was ragged,
his knuckles bloody,
his tears still falling silently onto the concrete floor.
Then—
A soft sound broke the air.
"…hey…"
His entire body froze.
"…are you… there…?"
Her voice.
Weak.
Faint.
Barely a whisper.
But it was hers.
He spun around so fast he nearly slipped,
heart pounding wildly,
eyes widening as he saw her fingers twitch,
her lashes flutter.
"—I… can't… see… you…" she whispered.
He stumbled to her, falling to his knees beside her,
hands shaking as he cupped her face.
"I'm here— I'm here— I'm right here," he choked,
his voice breaking with relief and disbelief.
Her eyes opened slowly,
green and glassy, searching.
When she finally focused on him,
a tiny, broken smile curved on her lips.
"You're… safe," she breathed.
He couldn't hold back.
He wrapped his arms around her gently but desperately,
pulling her into his chest,
burying his face in her hair.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered,
voice trembling with raw emotion.
"I thought you were gone… don't do that— don't ever do that again— please…"
Her weak arms lifted and held onto him,
fingers curling softly into his shirt.
"I'm okay…" she whispered into his shoulder.
"I'm here…"
Behind them, Jack stood frozen.
For the first time,
he wasn't the one in control.
He wasn't the voice of fear.
He wasn't the monster.
He was a brother
watching the only person he ever cared about
bleed because of him.
His body trembled,
eyes wide with something he had never felt before:
shame.
He tried to step forward,
but his legs refused.
He lowered his head,
unable to face her.
Unable to face what he had done.
They rushed her to the nearest hospital.
He wouldn't let go of her hand the entire ride.
Not even for a second.
Jack sat in the front seat, silent,
hands clenched so tightly his nails cut into his palms.
Not a word was spoken.
When they arrived, the nurses carried her away,
and the boy stood trembling in the hallway,
hands still stained with her blood.
Jack finally spoke—
voice fragile, shaking.
"I didn't mean… for it to go that far."
The boy didn't look at him.
Didn't even acknowledge him.
Because in that moment,
nothing mattered except her.
They waited outside the emergency room.
Minutes stretched like hours.
Jack paced aimlessly,
unable to sit,
unable to breathe,
unable to escape the weight crushing him.
The boy sat with his elbows on his knees,
hands clasped together,
eyes red and empty.
Then—
The door opened.
Both of them stood up instantly.
A doctor stepped out,
removing his gloves.
"She's stable now," he said with a gentle nod.
"The bullet didn't hit any vital organs.
She's going to recover,
but she'll need rest and time."
Something inside the boy finally loosened.
Tension melted from his shoulders,
tears filled his eyes again—
but this time, tears of relief.
Jack exhaled shakily,
pressing his hand over his mouth.
The doctor continued:
"You can see her soon.
She's asking for someone."
Jack lifted his head.
"Who…?" he whispered.
The doctor checked his notes.
"She asked for him," he said, pointing at the boy.
Jack's heart dropped.
His hand fell to his side.
He didn't argue.
He didn't move.
He just stood there,
silent,
broken,
knowing he had lost something he could never fix.
Meanwhile, the boy stepped forward,
hand trembling on the door handle…
ready to see her again.