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“Never said I was a saint.” My heart thunders in my chest, each beat echoing the anger coursing through me. My fingers twitch, itching to strike.
“Rick, please.” Silvie pleads from the floor, her voice quivering with fear. “He did nothing wrong.”
“Stay out of it, bitch.” Rick, her pimp, snaps, not even sparing her a glance, before turning back to me. “This is between me and him.”
“Leave her alone.”
My rage finally boils over. The last vestiges of my restraint shatter. With a guttural roar, I lunge at the pimp, fists flying like a storm-driven hail. Blow after blow rains down upon the man who dares to harm someone who showed me kindness, even if only for a moment.
We collide with the force of our pent-up aggression. Our bodies tangle, limbs flailing as we grapple with one another. The room dissolves into a blur of frenzied movement. The sharp tang of sweat and blood fills my nostrils as my fists connect with Rick’s flesh, but with each strike, the darkness inside of me grows stronger, more insistent.
Ravenous to inflict pain. To hurt another.
As much as I want to break free from the darkness that haunts me, a part of me is terrified of losing its familiar embrace.
“Enough!” The bartender’s booming voice slices through our fight like a thunderclap. With surprising strength, he wrenches us apart, the force of his grip on my arms bruising and unyielding. “I won’t have this in my bar.”
My breath heaves in ragged gasps, the fire within me still burning hot and wild, but with nowhere left to direct it. The world around me blurs into a haze of pain and regret, each heartbeat threatening to rip me apart.
The bartender points at me. “You, get out of here. Now. Leave.”
As I stumble towards the exit, the taste of blood in my mouth, I can’t help but wonder if I have truly lost any chance of finding redemption? If it had ever truly been within my reach at all.
Silvie struggles to her feet, blood trickling down her cheek as she meets my gaze. Sadly, I can’t save her. I turn away from her and she calls out, but the pain in my chest only grows sharper with each step I take.
“Goodbye, Silvie.” I whisper the words, making them a silent promise that I’ll carry the memory of our brief encounter forever.
The door slams shut behind me, casting me into the frigid night. The icy air cuts through my clothes, making me shiver violently, and the sickly sweet stench of blood and alcohol clings to my skin like a cloying perfume.
“Damn it.” I drag a trembling hand through the disheveled mess of my hair.
Amidst the shadows and fog swirling through the empty streets, I spot a stray dog—thin and ragged, its fur matted with grime. Its eyes meet mine, seeming to see straight through to the darkness within me.
“Go away.”
The dog tilts its head as if considering whether to approach.
“Leave me alone.” I growl, turning away, and continue my aimless journey through the desolate night.
The dog seems to make up its mind and trots over to me. I look down at the shaggy beast and stretch out my hand, not caring if the dog bites me. It tentatively sniffs my hand and licks my fingers. Dropping to my knees, I rub the mangy mutt, then glance at a diner that appears to be open, although no one is inside.
“Stay here, pup.” The dog whines as I trot across the street.
I return with a mixture of bacon, sausage, eggs, and biscuits. Kneeling down, I place the food on the pavement and sit back while the dog wolfs down the meal.
“I can’t keep living like this.”
It looks at me as if to say I’m wrong.
With one good deed done, I leave the dog and stumble down the deserted streets. My thoughts swirl like a storm, battering me with questions about my purpose, my morality, and whether redemption is possible for someone so thoroughly lost.
I walk for some time, wandering aimlessly, when coarse laughter stops me in my tracks. Laughter belonging to the cretins from the bar. I round the corner to find the men standing around a tiny figure curled in on itself on the pavement. The men relieve themselves, urinating on the body of the woman I met tonight.
“Silvie?” Horror creeps up my spine as I take in her mutilated body. Angry bruises and deep gashes mar her face. “God, no.”
She tried to help me, to reach into the depths of my soul and pull me from the abyss. And now, she lies broken and lifeless on the dirty ground.
Rage surges through me like a wildfire, incinerating the shackles of restraint that held me back in the bar. My mind becomes singularly focused—the pimp will pay for what he did, for snuffing out a light that dared to pierce my darkness.
