INTERLUDE: AFTERMATH

There was still blood under her nails.

She had scrubbed her hands raw in the sink, let the hot water scald her skin until it stung, but it didn’t matter. It was still there. She could still see it, even though she knew it was gone. Could still feel it, phantom warmth clinging to her fingers like the memory refused to let go.

It hadn’t even been that much. The fog had swallowed most of it, turning red mist to nothing, carrying it away in the damp air. It should have helped. Should have made it seem like less.

But Taylor had seen.

She had felt it. The way the man’s body collapsed. The way the force she had called on—her power—had turned him from a person into… into pieces.

She shuddered. Breathed in. Breathed out. The air was too thick.

Taylor sat on the motel floor, back pressed against the side of the bed, knees drawn up to her chest. The mattress frame dug into her spine, grounding her, but it wasn’t enough.

The room was dark. She hadn’t turned the lights on when she got back. Hadn’t wanted to. The streetlights outside did enough, their pale glow slicing through the blinds, casting long, slanted beams across the walls. They flickered every time a car passed, shadows shifting in slow, creeping motions.

Her clothes were clean. No blood. No mess. Another benefit of her power. Another thing that should have made it easier.

It didn’t.

She shut her eyes.

The memories came anyway.

A pull. A flash of blue. A body breaking apart.

Her stomach lurched.

She had fought before. Had hurt people before. Bruises, fractures—pain that would heal. She had always pulled back before it went too far, always kept enough control to make sure the damage wasn’t permanent.

But this—this was different.

This wasn’t just a fight. This wasn’t someone getting knocked down, hurt but still breathing.

This was final. Immediate.

A single man, reduced to nothing. 

Because of her.

She hadn’t even thought about it at the moment. Hadn’t hesitated. Had just acted.

Had reached for her power, drawn on it, pulled harder than she ever had before.

And now she knew what that meant.

Now she understood.

Taylor swallowed, tilting her head back against the mattress.

The room was too quiet. Suffocatingly quiet.

Yet outside, the city kept moving. Life went on.

Somewhere, someone was laughing. Somewhere, a radio was playing. Somewhere, a person was waking up, stretching, getting ready for their night shift, completely unaware that—

That a man had died tonight.

That she had killed someone.

Her breath came slower. Shallower.

She pressed her palms against her face, fingers trembling against her skin.

She had made a choice.

And now, she had to live with it.