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“Doesn’t make me a hero.”
“A hero is the last thing women like my mom and that girl need.”
“Why is that?”
“Because heroes follow rules and think about the world’s wellbeing. They’re shackled by outdated codes of honor and self-imposed morals, and that might work in a black and white platonic idealism, but that’s not reality, that’s not how it works. In life, sometimes, the hero has to turn into a villain.”
“Is that what I am? A villain?”
“I heard you could be if the situation requires it.”
“So I’m a part-time villain?”
“I prefer the term, dark warrior of justice.”
“And do you believe in that? Justice?”
“I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll have nothing to believe in, nothing to hope for, and that’s just…too bleak to think about.” She stares at me for that fraction of a second, then lowers her head. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Believe in justice?”
“Not really.”
“Then…why did you become a lawyer?”
“Because justice fucked me over once upon a time and I’m fucking it right back. It’s a grudge of sorts. Justice and I have what people call a love-hate relationship.” No clue why the fuck I’m telling her all of this when I don’t talk about it with anyone, not even T.
My perception about justice has been warped ever since I was a kid, and it only got more complicated as I grew up. I hate justice most of the time, but using it has been giving my life meaning.
However, I don’t like others finding out about my relationship with it, so the fact that I just told her all that is a first.
It could be because she opened up about her mother. Could be because of the way she steals glances at me, even though her head is usually lowered, worshipping the ground.
Or maybe it’s due to the fact that I discovered another depth to her, one that’s toying with my fucking shadows, and I want those gone.
The depth and the shadows.
Or maybe I want them to clash together, to hit rock bottom so that I can watch the type of mayhem it’ll create.
“Justice fucked them over, too,” she whispers. “People like that woman and Mom, I mean. No one heard them scream or saw their hidden bruises. No one stopped to offer them a helping hand or even listened to them. But you can.”
“I’m not exactly a benevolent person.”
“You don’t have to be. Just do what you do best.”
“And what is that?”
She smiles and it’s soft yet raw, just like her words from earlier. As if she’s not only baring her teeth but also a piece of her hidden soul in the process. “Fuck justice over on their behalf.”
I can’t help the tinge of amusement in my voice. “I thought you believed in justice. Now, you want me to fuck it over?”
“When it’s being an asshole, yeah.” She peeks at me through her lashes. “So?”
“I’m still not convinced. You’ll have to try harder.”
A determined fire takes refuge in her eyes. “I will.”
