The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.
She lay there, pale but alive, wrapped in blankets, her eyes half-open as she fought to stay awake.
He sat beside her, holding her hand gently—
terrified to touch her too hard, terrified to let go.
Then the door opened.
Jack stepped inside.
One hesitant step.
Then another.
He looked smaller than ever—
like someone who had lost every piece of himself on the warehouse floor.
"...Sister," he whispered, voice crackling.
Her eyes snapped open—
and the moment she saw him, her expression stiffened.
Cold.
Hurt.
Wounded deeper than the bullet.
Jack approached slowly.
"I—I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"I didn't know it would go that far. I… I lost control. I didn't mean to—"
She turned her face away.
"Leave."
Jack froze.
His throat tightened.
"Sis… please. Look at me. I'm your brother—"
Her voice trembled, but not from weakness.
From betrayal.
"You tried to kill someone I… someone who never hurt you."
Jack swallowed.
"I only wanted you safe. Everything I did was to protect you. I thought—"
"Protect me?!" she snapped, glaring at him.
Her voice cracked like glass.
"You manipulated me.
You used me.
You made me lie to someone who didn't deserve it.
And then you almost killed him."
Jack's eyes widened.
"I—I didn't want to lose you…"
"You already did," she whispered.
The words hit him like a strike to the chest.
Jack stumbled back a step.
"I'm… sorry," he repeated, voice shaking, desperate.
"I'm sorry, please—"
Before he could finish his sentence,
the boy stood up.
And for the first time—
he didn't look afraid of Jack.
He looked furious.
"Enough."
Jack blinked.
"What?"
The boy took a step forward, body tense, eyes blazing.
"I said enough!"
The room fell silent.
His voice cracked with years of swallowed fear.
"You hurt her.
You hurt me.
You made our lives hell.
And now you want forgiveness as if nothing happened?"
Jack stared, shaken.
The boy continued, voice shaking but strong:
"Isn't it enough?
Everything you did?
Every scar?
Every nightmare?
Every moment she cried because of you?"
Jack opened his mouth—
but no words came out.
The boy's voice softened, broke, trembled:
"You almost killed the only person who ever cared about me."
He looked at her—
and something fragile inside him shattered.
"I don't deserve her love.
I don't deserve anyone's love.
Not after everything I am…
everything I've been…"
His voice fell to a whisper.
"But I love her."
The words froze the room.
Jack's eyes widened.
Her breath hitched.
He looked down, tears forming.
"I love her," he repeated softly.
"And I would have traded places with her if I could."
She reached for his hand with trembling fingers.
"You don't decide that," she whispered, squeezing his palm weakly.
He looked at her—confused, broken.
She smiled through her tears.
"You don't decide who deserves love.
If that were true…
I wouldn't deserve yours either."
He shook his head violently.
"No— you're different— you're good— I'm—"
"You're everything I wasn't supposed to feel," she whispered.
"And yet… I still fell for you."
His breath caught.
She lifted her hand to his cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.
"I'm sorry for hurting you.
For lying.
For being part of this."
She leaned closer, her forehead touching his.
"But I love you too."
Jack's breath choked in his throat—
a broken sound of regret, pain, and realization.
He took a step back, tears filling his eyes.
"Both of you…
I'm so sorry."
But no one answered him.
Because in that moment,
the boy and the girl were holding onto each other
as if trying to rebuild something the world had tried so hard to break.
Jack didn't wait for another word.
He stumbled backward out of the room,
hands shaking,
breathing unsteady,
his face pale as ash.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
And then—
The mask fell.
He pressed both hands against the wall,
his body folding forward as if the weight of years suddenly crashed onto his shoulders.
His breath came out in broken gasps.
"I hurt her…
I hurt her…"
he whispered, voice trembling violently.
His sister's disgusted eyes burned into his memory.
The disappointment.
The betrayal.
For the first time in his life,
Jack wasn't angry.
He wasn't cruel.
He wasn't in control.
He was terrified.
His legs shook as he slid down to the floor, gripping his hair with trembling fingers.
"What have I done…?"
His voice cracked like a child's.
"What did I do to her…?"
Tears—real tears—fell onto his fists.
Not the angry kind.
Not the frustrated kind.
The broken kind.
The kind he hadn't shed since he was a child.
He curled into himself, shaking.
---
Then—
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Heavy.
Powerful.
Too familiar.
Jack froze.
His breath stopped completely.
"No… no, no…" he whispered, eyes widening.
A tall man appeared at the end of the corridor.
Broad shoulders.
Cold eyes.
A permanent frown carved into stone.
His father.
When Jack saw him,
his entire body stiffened—
like a dog waiting for the blow it knows too well.
The man's gaze moved from the boy on the floor…
to the ER sign above the door.
His expression darkened.
"Jack."
Just one word.
But Jack flinched violently.
As if the air itself had hit him.
His father walked closer, every step slow, controlled, terrifying.
"What did you do?" the man asked quietly—
the quiet that comes right before a storm.
Jack opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He couldn't lie.
He couldn't speak.
He could barely breathe.
His father grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet.
Jack gasped, instinctively pulling back—
but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Dad— please—"
his voice trembled in a way the boy inside the room had never heard from him.
"What. Did. You. Do?" his father demanded, eyes burning.
Jack swallowed hard.
His lips trembled like a child trying not to cry.
"I… I tried to scare him. I didn't mean— she— she wasn't supposed to—"
The man's jaw tightened.
"You almost killed your sister."
Jack's breath hitched sharply.
"I know," he whispered, tears spilling again.
"I know. I didn't mean— I swear I didn't— Dad, please—"
He shrank back as his father stepped closer.
"I told you," his father hissed,
"one day your temper would destroy what little you have left."
Jack lowered his gaze,
shaking,
small,
defeated.
"I'm sorry…"
His voice came out barely audible.
A boy's voice.
Not a monster's.
His father released his arm abruptly.
"You will fix this," he said coldly.
"You will make things right.
Or so help me, Jack—"
Jack nodded rapidly, terrified.
"Yes. Yes, I will. I'll fix it. I'll do anything— anything—"
His father didn't reply.
He simply turned and stared through the small window at his daughter resting inside,
and the boy sitting beside her,
holding her hand.
A look of regret passed through the man's eyes—
but it vanished quickly,
buried under decades of hardness.
Jack wiped his tears quickly,
terrified his father would see more.
But the truth was already obvious:
Jack—the monster everyone feared—
was afraid too.
Afraid of his father.
Afraid of losing his sister.
Afraid of what he had become.
Afraid of himself.
And for the first time in his life…
Jack didn't know how to control anything anymore.