________________________________________
Three days. That's how long I made it before everything went to shit.
The first day I couldn't even move. Just sat in that alley with my back against the wall trying not to lose my mind. Everything had lines on it. The dumpster. The walls. The rats. These thin red cracks running through everything like the world was one big broken mirror.
Closing my eyes didn't help. I could still feel them somehow. Like they were burned into my brain.
Second day I tried to get food. Walked into a convenience store. Saw the clerk behind the counter.
The lines on him were different from objects. Thicker. They ran through his neck, his chest, his head. I could see exactly where to touch to make him just... stop.
I freaked out and left without grabbing anything. Probably looked like a crackhead the way I ran out of there.
Third day I was starving. This body had already been malnourished before I showed up and three more days of nothing pushed it to the edge. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Vision kept going blurry.
And the lines. God the lines. They were getting brighter. More intense. Like they wanted me to use them.
I needed food. I needed to do something. I couldn't just sit here and die after literally just dying.
That's when the yakuza showed up.
Three of them walking into the alley like they owned it. Which I guess they did.
Nice suits. Tattoos up their necks. The one in front had a shaved head and this big scar down his cheek. He smiled when he saw me. Not a nice smile.
"Kid's still here." He sounded amused. "Thought you would've fucked off after we told you to last week."
The memories from this body filled in the gaps. These guys ran this territory. Original Laurent had tried to sleep here a month ago and got his ass beat for it.
Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed.
"I'm leaving," I said. Tried to stand up. My legs said no.
"Nah." Scarface stepped closer. His buddies flanked him. "See we got a reputation to maintain. Can't have street rats thinking they can just ignore us."
The fat one cracked his knuckles. "Boss said make an example."
My heart was going crazy. The lines on all three of them were so bright it almost hurt to look. I could see exactly where to cut. Exactly how to end them.
But I'd never hurt anyone before. Not really. Ezequiel's biggest fight was an argument about anime on Twitter.
"Please," I heard myself say. "I don't want any trouble."
Scarface laughed. "Little late for that."
The punch came fast.
Caught me right in the stomach. All the air just gone. I folded over and another hit got my ribs. Then a kick and I was on the ground.
Pain. Real actual pain.
Scarface was saying something. I couldn't hear it over the ringing in my ears. He kicked me in the back and my hand just—
Shot out. Grabbed his ankle. Don't know why. Instinct maybe.
There was a line right there. Bright red. Pulsing.
My finger traced it.
His leg came off.
Just like that. No resistance. No feeling of cutting through bone or muscle or anything. Just a smooth motion and then his leg wasn't attached to his body anymore.
It hit the ground. He hit the ground. Then the blood started.
He screamed. God he screamed so loud.
I stared at my hand. Clean. No blood on it. Nothing to show what I'd just done.
But his leg was lying there. Twitching. And the blood was spreading across the concrete and he wouldn't stop screaming.
I did that. I did that. Holy shit I did that.
"What the fuck!" Fat guy stumbled backward. "WHAT THE FUCK!"
The young one with the slicked hair recovered faster. Knife out. "Devil! He's got a fucking contract!"
He came at me.
I saw the lines on the knife. My hand moved on its own it traced one as the blade passed my face.
The knife shattered. Just fell apart into pieces.
I scrambled to my feet. Didn't feel like my body. Felt like I was watching from somewhere else.
"Kill him!" Fat guy had a gun now. Hands shaking bad. "Kill the little shit!"
I looked at the gun. Saw the lines.
I didn't want to die. That was the only thought. I didn't want to die again. I just got here. I just—
The gun came apart in his hands. Pieces clattering to the ground.
He stared at his empty palms. "What... what are you?"
I didn't have an answer. I didn't know what I was anymore.
The young one was getting up behind me. I spun around and he froze. We just looked at each other. His face was white.
"STOP!"
A woman at the alley entrance.
Tall. Dark hair. Public Safety uniform.
Her eyes moved across the scene. Scarface still screaming on the ground. The leg. The broken weapons. Me standing in the middle of it shaking like a leaf.
"Public Safety," she said. "Nobody move."
I couldn't move anyway. Could barely stand.
She walked forward slow. Hand on her sword. Looked at the leg. Looked at me.
"What's your name kid?"
My mouth was so dry. "Laurent."
"Just Laurent?"
"Yeah."
"Okay Laurent." She stopped a few feet away. "You're gonna need to come with me. Easy way or hard way."
The other two yakuza were already backing off. She didn't even glance at them.
"I didn't mean to," I said. Voice cracking. "I didn't mean to do that. They were gonna kill me and I just—I just grabbed him and—"
"I know." Her voice went a little softer. "But you did. So now we gotta figure out what happens next."
I looked at Scarface. Still screaming. The blood pool kept growing. I did that to him. Me. The guy who couldn't even kill spiders without feeling bad.
"Is he gonna die?" I asked.
"Probably not. He'll lose the leg though." She paused. "Whatever you did, it's not something we can fix."
Something in my chest twisted. Guilt maybe. Or maybe just shock finally catching up.
"I didn't know I could do that," I said. It sounded weak even to me. "I swear I didn't know."
She studied me for a long moment. Whatever she saw must've been enough because she nodded.
"Yeah. I believe you." She gestured toward the alley entrance. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe."
Safe. Was anywhere safe now? I had these eyes that could see how to kill anything. I'd just ripped a guy's leg off without even trying.
But what choice did I have? Go back to starving in alleys? Wait for more yakuza to find me?
"Okay," I said.
I walked toward her on legs that barely worked. Past the blood. Past the leg. Past the man I'd crippled.
The lines on everything kept pulsing. Showing me more ways to break the world.
I really hoped this woman knew what she was doing. Because I sure as hell didn't.
________________________________________