𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟵. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙊𝙪𝙩𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙨

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙊𝙪𝙩𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙨

Everything was black. Not the kind of darkness Erin knew but a complete erasure of reality. No walls. No ceiling. No horizon. Just an endless void swallowing every trace of light.

The only thing that existed beneath her was a thin layer of water. She couldn't see it, not really, but every slow, tentative step sent ripples echoing outward, each one swallowed by the dark before she could hear where it went.

She had never been anywhere like this. She wasn't even sure where she was if this place counted as a place at all.

Then a voice broke through the emptiness, deep and faint, as if carried across miles of static.

"It's me," the man said. His voice echoed strangely, bouncing off nothing.

Erin turned sharply, searching for the source, spinning in circles because everything looked the same.

The voice returned, clearer this time. "I know I've been gone too long, and, uh... I just want you to know that it's not because of you. And it's not because of our fight."

A flicker of light pulsed in the distance, so faint she might have mistaken it for a trick of her stressed mind. But it pulsed again, a weak glow like a candle struggling against the dark.

That was where the voice was coming from. She knew it without knowing how.

Erin began walking toward it.

"It's just... something came up," the voice continued. "I'll explain everything soon."

The light grew as she approached, resolving into a small desk made of old wood, its edges warped and rough. A radio sat on top, a small lamp beside it casting the only light in this impossible darkness.

Only then did she notice the silhouette standing beside the desk, motionless, facing the radio. Erin froze, breath catching in her throat.

She stepped closer. The radio crackled.

"I want you to know that I'm not— I'm not mad at you."

The silhouette turned abruptly, startled by Erin's approach.

It was Jane. The girl from yesterday.

Her expression mirrored Erin's: shock, confusion, recognition like they had just discovered each other in a dream neither of them meant to share.

Before either of them could speak, the radio whispered one last line, soft and breaking:

"I'm just... sorry."

The world shuddered. The desk dissolved. The lamp flickered out. Jane's face fractured like a reflection on disturbed water.

The void folded in on itself and Erin jolted awake, breath tearing from her lungs, the dream collapsing behind her like a door slammed shut.

- ⏳-

That morning, Erin was already downstairs.

She sat perched on one of the old graffiti-covered counters that lined the warehouse, knees drawn up slightly, a half-finished bowl of leftover Thai noodles beside her. She'd picked at it mechanically, exchanging a few distracted words with Mick while pretending not to feel the group's eyes drifting toward her now and then.

She didn't want to talk about last night. She didn't want to talk about Jane. And she definitely didn't want to run a mission today.

By late morning, Kali and Jane finally returned. Their steps echoed in the metal skeleton of the warehouse, and Axel was the first to meet them, already annoyed.

"We need more money, Kal," he grumbled, waving his empty takeout container. "I can't keep eating this garbage."

Kali didn't even look at him. She simply motioned toward him as she spoke to Jane. "That," she said flatly, "is Axel."

Jane blinked at her in recognition. "The spider hater?"

Kali sighed. "Yes. The spider hater."

Axel frowned, but she moved past him, gesturing toward Dottie lounging in a beaten office chair, spinning herself slowly in circles.

"And that's Dottie, our newest. Like you, she just left home."

Dottie shot Jane a smirk, legs kicked up, boots squeaking against the metal desk.

Kali continued the introductions.

"This is Mick, our driver and our protector. No one drives better than her."

Mick gave a small nod, folding her arms. Kali turned next to the largest silhouette in the room.

"And this is Funshine, our warrior. Don't let his size scare you. He's a teddy bear."

Funshine stepped forward, offering Jane a gentle handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Jane."

Jane studied his hand intently, as if searching for something written there.

"If you're looking for a number," Kali said, "you won't find one on him."

"On him?" Jane echoed, the implication hanging heavily in the stale air.

Only then did Kali gesture toward Erin, still on the counter, notebook in her lap, body tense in that half-ready, half-withdrawn posture she'd perfected over the years.

"Over there is Erin," Kali said. "She's like us."

Jane turned. Their eyes met. Erin straightened only slightly, uncomfortable under the attention.

"You were in my dream," Jane said softly.

Erin exhaled through her nose. "Not on purpose. Sorry."

She shut her notebook. Kali's gaze sharpened at that small act, Kali never liked when Erin hid her thoughts.

"Erin can read and manipulate minds," Kali explained, focusing now on Jane. "She's our lie detector. Our eyes. Everyone else here, except the three of us, is normal. But like us, they're outcasts."

"Outcasts?" Jane repeated.

"Freaks," Axel translated.

"Speak for yourself," Dottie muttered.

Kali ignored them. "Society left them behind. Hurt them. Discarded them."

Funshine touched his head, then his chest. "We were dead. Here... and here. Kali saved us."

"Don't get mushy on us now, Fun," Kali teased.

"No mushy," he insisted. "Just true."

Erin allowed herself the hint of a smile. Funshine was the only one she trusted even a little. He wasn't soft, none of them were, but he still tried to be good, or at least kind. The rest of them didn't even pretend. Neither did she, most days.

Axel cracked open another can. "In this life, kid, you roll over or you fight back."

"We're all fighters here," Mick added.

Erin almost laughed, almost. Fighters? They were thieves. Runaways. Killers. "Fighters" was just the word they used to make themselves sleep better. Or to impress Kali's brand-new miracle sister.

"Fight who?" Jane asked.

Kali's smile sharpened. She reached under the table and hauled out a heavy bag. Its contents spilled across the metal surface, dozens of ID cards, folders, photographs, everything stained and creased from being handled too many times.

Jane leaned forward, studying them.

"These people," Kali said, voice low, "were responsible for what happened to us."

Jane picked up one of the cards, her fingers tracing the photograph. Then she looked up. "You hurt the bad men?"

"No, sweetheart," Dottie sang mockingly. "We just give them a pat on the back."

"No," Erin said quietly, her tone colder than she intended. "Kill. That's the word you're looking for."

Jane's eyes widened slightly. She didn't look like a killer. Too small. Too young. Too... soft.

"They're criminals," Kali insisted. "We simply make them pay for their crimes."

Erin's jaw tightened.

Dottie rolled her eyes at Jane. "We can't all be fighters, I guess."

"I'm a fighter," Jane said suddenly. "I've killed."

Erin blinked. She hadn't expected that.

"Those men you killed," Kali asked gently, "did they deserve it?"

"They hurt me," Jane said.

"And they still want to hurt you. Hurt us." Kali's gaze flicked toward Erin. "We're just making the first move."

Erin looked away, arms crossing tightly over her chest.

She was so tired of that speech. She'd heard it her whole life, kill or be killed. Hunt before you're hunted. Never safe, nowhere, not ever.

God, how exhausting it was to survive violence you didn't ask for, especially when you were thirteen and had never been allowed to do anything else.

Erin stayed away from the others for the rest of the morning.

She didn't want to be part of any of it, not today, not anymore. Their voices still drifted up from below, muffled by the warehouse walls, buzzing with excitement over Jane's latest display of power. She'd heard enough to understand that Jane had managed to move an entire train car by herself.

They spoke about it like they had done it, like the thrill belonged to them.

Then came the talk about the mission. A target had been chosen: some retired researcher who had once worked in the lab. Erin didn't bother listening after that. She never wanted to know too much about the targets. The less she knew, the easier it was to pretend none of it belonged to her. "Easier" never really meant "easy," though.

Now she sat alone on the rooftop, legs pulled up, notebook balanced against her knees. The pen moved almost on its own.

She wrote often, anything, everything, sometimes nothing at all but the act steadied her. It was one of the few things that made the noise in her head soften, even a little.

The metal door creaked open behind her.

Erin glanced up, expecting Kali or Mick, someone who had a reason to come find her. Instead, Jane stepped out into the sunlight.

Of all people... not her.

"Hi." Jane crossed the rooftop and sat down across from Erin, close but not too close.

Erin hesitated before answering. "If you're looking for Kali, she's not here." Her eyes dropped back to her notebook.

"I wasn't looking for Kali," Jane said simply. "I was looking for you."

Erin froze, pen stilled between her fingers. She raised her head.

"You were in my dream," Jane continued. "How did you do that?"

Erin drew a quiet breath and closed the notebook. "I... don't really know. It just happens sometimes. Not on purpose."

She gave a small shrug. She had never truly understood her powers, least of all the dreams.

"Kali said you're like me," Jane said.

"Kali says a lot of things," Erin answered, colder than she intended. "Don't believe all of them."

Jane's brows knit. "But... isn't she your sister?"

Erin looked at her for a long moment.

"It's—yeah. She is. Or the closest thing I have to one." Her voice softened. "She saved my life. She got me out of the lab. We've been together ever since."

Jane reached forward, gently taking Erin's wrist. Erin surprised herself by not pulling away. Jane studied the number tattooed along her skin: 013.

"You really are like me," Jane whispered, smiling a little.

Erin let out a breath that almost became a laugh, dry, bitter. She slipped her wrist from Jane's hold.

"No, I'm not. You have... somewhere to go back to. Someone waiting for you." Her thoughts flicked to the man's voice echoing in Jane's dream. "I don't have that."

Jane didn't respond. Her silence wasn't judgemental, just unsure.

Erin inhaled, steadying the tangle of emotions beginning to rise.

"Look, I don't know what Kali and the others told you, but this—" She gestured vaguely around them, meaning the warehouse, the group, the life. "This isn't a home. You have one. You should go back to it."

Jane pressed her lips together, unsure how to answer.

They were the same age, carried similar scars, walked out of the same nightmare and yet they were nothing alike. Two lives shaped by the same hands, but in completely different ways.

"I think my mama sent me here for a reason," Jane said softly.

Erin's head snapped up at that.

"I believe she wanted me to find you."

A painful pull tightened in Erin's chest. Family meant nothing to her, nothing real, nothing safe. It was a concept she understood only from a distance, like a word from a language she'd never learned.

Maybe Jane was right. Maybe there was some reason their paths had crossed.

But Erin had never believed in destiny. Or miracles. Life had only ever proven the opposite.

Thank you so much for reading this far! 🎡

I love Eleven (or Jane) here, she's so gentle with Erin despite all the walls Erin keeps around herself.

Your feedback means the world to me. Whether you felt moved, confused, or amused, please share your thoughts!