Pasts are pain whatever how it was.
Diana lowered Emma onto the old mattress inside the safehouse, her hands shaking as she tried to press down on the worst wounds. Blood seeped through no matter what she did.
"She's losing too much…" Diana muttered, panic in her voice.
Mostang's jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone, pacing. For once, his voice wasn't cold or smooth — it cracked under the weight of urgency.
"Pick up… come on, pick up…"
The call connected.
"Mostang? It's late. What's wrong?" a calm female voice answered.
"I need you," he said immediately. "Now. Bring your kit. It's life or death."
There was a pause. "Who's hurt?"
Mostang glanced at Emma, who was barely conscious, her chest rising weakly.
"…Someone worth saving. Someone who can change everything. Someone. Who will clean the world. Please… I'm begging you."
Another pause, then the woman's voice sharpened with resolve.
"Send me the location."
Minutes later, the door burst open. A tall woman stepped inside — sharp eyes, steady hands, her medical bag slung over her shoulder. Without hesitation, she knelt by Emma, checking vitals, ripping open gauze and surgical tools.
Diana moved back, watching her with suspicion, but Mostang placed a hand on her shoulder.
"She's the best. Trust her."
The woman worked quickly, precise as if she'd done this a thousand times. "Severe blood loss… multiple fractures… bruising on the ribs. Whoever she fought, it was a war. But she'll live if we keep her stable."
Mostang crouched beside her. "Stay with her. Please. Join us. If she goes down again, I can't—" He stopped himself, fists clenched.
The doctor looked at him, then at Emma's battered but unbroken form. Slowly, she nodded.
"…Alright. I'll stay. If she's your friend, then she'll need someone who knows how to bring her back from the brink."
Diana exhaled in relief, brushing Emma's hair back gently. "Thank you…"
Emma, half-conscious, whispered faintly through cracked lips, eyes flicking to the new ally.
"…Name?"
The doctor smiled faintly as she tied off a bandage.
"Call me Selene."
------
The darkness clung to her mind like tar.
Emma ran through corridors that weren't real — walls dripping, floors echoing with footsteps that weren't hers. Faces flashed in the dark. Children. Wide, terrified eyes. A little boy clutching a teddy bear. A woman shielding her infant. A man crying out for his wife before silence cut him off.
Blood on her hands. Blood everywhere.
"Monster."
"Why?"
"You're not human."
The voices drowned her. They weren't loud — they whispered, over and over, until the words became a crushing weight pressing on her chest.
Emma tried to scream, but her throat wouldn't open. She stumbled, falling to her knees, as small pale hands reached out of the dark and clawed at her. The children dragged her down, their faces twisted with sadness.
And then—
She woke with a gasp.
Her body jolted upward, drenched in sweat, lungs heaving like she'd been underwater for hours. Four days had passed. She didn't know it, but the clock ticking on the wall confirmed it.
Her eyes darted around — the room was dim, the air heavy with antiseptic. Bandages wrapped her arms and torso.
Diana was asleep in a chair nearby, her head resting against the wall. Selene was still awake, scribbling notes at a small desk, her movements calm and steady. Mostang leaned against the corner, smoking quietly, the smoke curling against the windowlight.
Emma blinked, her voice hoarse, almost broken:
"…Where…?"
Selene turned immediately, rushing to her side. "Don't move too much. You've been unconscious for four days. But you made it. You're alive."
Emma's hand twitched weakly at her side. Her lips parted, but only a whisper came out:
"…Alive?"
Mostang flicked his cigarette out the window, walking closer. His usual cold smirk was absent. Instead, his expression was grim, almost… respectful.
"Yeah. Against odds no one else could've survived. But you… you're still here."
Diana stirred awake, eyes snapping open the moment she heard Emma's voice. She rushed to her side, Patting Emma's shoulder
"Emma… you're back. You're—don't ever do that again, you hear me?"
Emma turned her head slightly, eyes half-lidded, still hollow from the nightmares. The memories of the children hadn't left. Her gaze was far away, somewhere Diana couldn't reach.
"…I… saw them again," she whispered. "…the kids. The ones I—"
Her throat locked up. The words broke off.
Selene gently placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "You're safe now. Rest. We'll talk when you're stronger."
But Emma didn't close her eyes. They stayed open, empty, glassy — staring at the ceiling as if the ghosts of her past were still painted there.
Emma: (whispering)"what an unescapeable nightmare."
-----
Emma lay there for hours after waking, her body aching, every muscle screaming for rest. But she couldn't stand the stillness. Couldn't stand Diana's worried eyes, Selene's silent watch, or the weight of her own thoughts pressing in.
She waited until the room had quieted. Diana had dozed off again in the chair, Selene finally slipping away to grab fresh bandages. Mostang was outside the room, probably smoking another cigarette.
Emma sat up.
The pain was sharp, stabbing deep into her ribs and abdomen, but she clenched her jaw and pushed through it. Her legs trembled when her feet touched the ground, but she didn't stop. Step by step, she forced herself upright, grabbing the edge of the table for balance.
She found her jacket folded neatly on the chair beside her bed — She slid it on, hiding the bandages beneath.
The mirror in the corner caught her reflection. Her face was pale, lips cracked, dark circles sinking deep under her eyes. She looked… human. Too human. Not the "Vencor's legacy" everyone whispered about. Just Emma. Broken.
Her hand clenched into a fist.
I can't let them see me like this.
She stepped out of the room.
Mostang was leaning against the wall, smoke trailing from his lips. His eyes flicked to her immediately. He froze for a second, almost startled that she was standing.
"…The hell are you doing out of bed?" he asked flatly, but there was something beneath the words — a mix of concern and disbelief.
Emma ignored him and started walking. Her steps were slow, stiff, but steady.
Diana stirred awake and ran to her. "Emma! Stop—what are you doing? You're going to rip your stitches!"
Emma's voice was calm, cold, but low — like each word cost her.
"I'm not weak. I won't… stay lying down."
Diana's voice cracked. "No one's saying you're weak! You almost died—"
Emma turned her head slightly, meeting her friend's eyes with that hollow, unreadable stare. "Then I'll almost die standing. Not rotting in a bed."
The room fell silent. Even Mostang didn't try to joke his way into the moment.
Selene returned with bandages, stopping dead in the doorway when she saw Emma on her feet. Her jaw tightened, but she didn't scold — she just sighed and muttered under her breath, "Stubborn girl…" before setting her supplies down.
Emma walked to the window. Outside, the night sea stretched endless and black, reflecting nothing. She placed her hand against the cold glass, her expression unreadable.
Inside, though, her chest throbbed. Not from her wounds — but from the ghosts that refused to let her rest.
Chapter end