I Blame Society (Chapters 24 to 35)

(Chapter Twenty Four: Runaway)

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The night swallowed them whole. Cold air burned Skye’s lungs as she ran, her fingers locked in Rowan’s. The sound of their shoes pounding against the pavement mixed with her heartbeat — fast, uneven, desperate.

“Keep moving,” Rowan said, his voice low but sharp. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m trying,” she gasped, clutching her bag tighter against her chest. “Where are we even going?”

“Someplace they won’t look,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes darted through the shadows like he was waiting for something to move.

Skye’s mind was a blur. The shattered glass. The knife. 

After what felt like forever, Rowan led her down a narrow alleyway behind an old auto shop. He slowed, finally letting her catch her breath.

“Rowan—” she started, but he was already scanning the rooftops, every muscle in his body tense.

“Give me your phone,” he said suddenly.

“What? Why?”

“They can trace it. Just— trust me.”

Her hands shook as she pulled it from her pocket. When he took it, his fingers brushed hers — warm, steady — before he smashed the phone against the pavement.

“Hey!” she shouted. “What the hell—”

“Do you want them finding us or not?” His tone cut through the night, sharper than she’d ever heard.

Skye fell silent. The only sound was her uneven breathing and the faint hum of distant traffic.

Rowan’s shoulders softened. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But they’ll be tracking anything they can.”

She nodded, staring at the cracked screen glittering on the ground. “So… what now?”

“We keep moving.”

He led her through another side street until they reached a run-down house on the edge of town — the kind that looked abandoned but wasn’t. The windows were boarded up from the outside, but a dim light flickered inside.

Rowan hesitated at the door, glancing back at her. “You trust me?”

Skye swallowed hard. “Do I have a choice?”

He didn’t smile, didn’t answer — just opened the door and motioned her inside.

The air inside was musty, cold. A faint smell of gasoline and dust hung in the air. Rowan closed the door behind them, locking it twice.

“This place…” she whispered. “How do you even know it’s safe?”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Because it’s mine.”

That made her freeze. “Yours?”

He nodded once. “Used to be, anyway.”

Skye looked around — an old couch, a cracked mirror, the faint sound of dripping water somewhere in the walls. Everything about it felt secret, hidden.

She sat down, her body trembling now that the adrenaline was fading. “Rowan… what’s happening? Why are they after me?”

He sat across from her, elbows on his knees, his eyes dark. “Because the Black Halo doesn’t play games. You got too close to David — and David’s one of them. Once you’re marked, they don’t stop.”

She stared at him, her voice shaking. “And you? How do you know all this?”

Rowan looked away, his jaw tightening. “Because I used to run with them too.”

Silence. The kind that made the air feel heavy.

Skye’s breath caught. “You what?”

Rowan finally looked up, his eyes raw and honest. “That’s why I know how they work. Why I knew they’d come for you. Because I used to be one of them — and the only way to get out was to burn everything behind me. After I got kicked out..”

“Kicked out for what..?”

“Killing someone..”

(Chapter Twenty Five: Out With a Bang)

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Skye couldn’t breathe. Murder? She would have understood if he said he got kicked out for betraying them about something, but killing? Taking someone's life is really deep that you can’t undo. 

“killing.. Someone?” Rowan said, as he flinched.

“I had no choice. I had too.”

Skye looked at Rowan, hugging her bag tightly to her chest. “What do you mean had too..”

Rowan’s eyes flickered — guilt, pain, something darker — and he looked away before he answered.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said quietly. “We were just supposed to scare him. That’s what they told me. Just a warning - keep him quiet, send a message.”

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “But with the Black Halo, ‘a warning’ never means what you think it does.”

Skye’s grip on her bag tightened. “So what happened?”

Rowan hesitated, staring down at his hands. The knuckles were scarred, faint white lines crossing over old bruises.

“It was raining,” he said finally. “Everything happened fast. He-he had a knife. I don’t even remember pulling the trigger. Just… the sound.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and Skye felt something twist in her chest. She wanted to hate him for it — for being capable of that — but the look on his face stopped her. It wasn’t pride. It was regret so heavy it looked like it had been eating him alive for years.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he said, voice rough. “But if I hadn’t done it, he would’ve killed me. Or worse — they would’ve made sure I paid for hesitating.”

Silence filled the room, broken only by the faint hum of wind through the cracks in the walls.

Skye tried to find the right words. “So… you left them after that?”

He nodded. “I couldn’t. I tried to disappear. But they don’t let people walk away, not really. And when I saw you with David…”

He trailed off, his jaw tightening again.

Skye swallowed hard. “You thought I’d end up like you.”

“I know what happens to people who trust them,” he said, looking straight at her. “You think you’re safe, that they care, until you’re just another body they bury under their secrets.”

Her stomach churned. “So what do I do now? I can’t just run forever.”

Rowan stood, pacing. “We figure out who marked you. Someone sent that feather — not David, not directly. It means someone higher up knows who you are. That’s bad.”

Skye looked up at him, her voice trembling. “You really think they’ll come after me again?”

“I don’t think,” Rowan said, glancing toward the boarded window. “I know.”

She shivered. For the first time, she understood the weight of what he’d been trying to warn her about. This wasn’t just a mistake. It was a war she’d wandered into without realizing it.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was small. “Then you’ll help me, right?”

Rowan turned back to her, his expression unreadable. “I already am.”

Skye realized that even if she didn’t fully trust him, he was the only person who could keep her alive.

“You need to learn how to defend yourself.”Rowan said, looking down at Skye.

(Chapter Twenty Six: Violence 101)

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“Uh- Rowan I dunno if you know this but, I’m not the most athletic.”Skye said, looking down at the floor

“Yeah, no shi-,” Rowan snorted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Wow. Thanks for the confidence boost,” she said sarcastically.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he said, walking around her, arms crossed. “You’ve got decent balance, at least.”

“Balance?” she scoffed. “I tripped over air yesterday.”

He smirked. “Then we’ll start small.”

Before she could ask what that meant, Rowan stepped closer — way closer — and tapped a finger under her chin, gently lifting her head. “Rule one: don’t look at the ground. The second you do that, you’ve already lost.”

Skye blinked. “That’s not a rule, that’s just common sense.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to everyone who’s ever gotten their ass kicked because they panicked.”

He stepped back and motioned to her. “Okay, hit me.”

“What? No.”

“C’mon,” Rowan said, grinning wider. “You won’t hurt me.”

“That’s not the point!”

He shrugged. “Fine, then I’ll hit you first.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I definitely would.”

She sighed, stepping forward hesitantly, fists half-raised like she’d seen people do in movies. Rowan tried — and failed — not to laugh.

“PFFT-“

“Okay, first of all, you look like you’re about to do jazz hands,” he said, adjusting her wrists.“Like this. Keep your guard up.”

She mimicked him, clumsy but determined. “Like this?”

“Better.” He nodded. “Now, swing.”

She swung.He dodged easily, catching her wrist and twisting it just enough to make her gasp.

“Ow—okay, okay!”

He let go immediately. “Good. Now you know what happens when you overcommit. Use your weight, not just your arms.”

Skye rubbed her wrist, glaring. “You could’ve just told me that instead of trying to break my arm.”

Rowan’s grin faded a little. “The Halos won’t give you a warning, Skye. You have to learn fast.”

That tone — serious, cold — made her stomach twist. The laughter between them faded, replaced by something heavier.

She took a breath. “You really think I’ll have to fight one of them?”

“I don’t think,” he said quietly, eyes locking with hers. “I know.”

They stood there in silence for a moment — her heart racing, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped back again, forcing a smile.

“Alright, round two,” he said, motioning for her to come at him. “And this time, no jazz hands.”

She rolled her eyes but lunged anyway, and for the first time, her swing made him stumble just a little.

“Hey!” she said, a small, triumphant smile forming.

Rowan smirked, rubbing his shoulder. “Okay, maybe you are a little athletic.”

“Damn right I am,” she said, but her laugh came out shakier than she meant it to.

The rest of the time they were there, Rowan was teaching her self defense, while also laughing and having a good time together. They were finally getting along again.

(Chapter Twenty Seven: What He Wanted)

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David learned very early that people were easier to move when they thought they were choosing for themselves.

He sat alone in his office, the light low, the window cracked just enough to let the night air in. The campus was quiet—too quiet. That meant people were sleeping. Vulnerable. Unaware.

On his desk sat a thin manila folder.

Nathan Mercer.

David didn’t need to open it. He already knew everything inside.

Nathan had always been a problem. Not loud. Not reckless. Worse—curious. The kind of man who asked questions and didn’t let go of answers once he found them. The kind of man who noticed patterns. The kind who noticed Skye.

That was the real issue.

David leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes unfocused.

Skye was fire. Not wild fire—controlled. Directed. She burned hottest when she believed she was doing the right thing. When she thought she was protecting someone. When she felt like she had no other choice.

Nathan had started to interfere with that.

He’d seen the way Nathan talked to her—too gently. Like he wanted to pull her out instead of pushing her forward. He’d watched Skye hesitate around him. Second-guess. Think.

Thinking was dangerous.

David finally opened the folder.

Photos. Reports. A timeline.

Nathan asking the wrong questions. Nathan poking into things he shouldn’t. Nathan getting closer to Skye, inch by inch, trust by trust.

David exhaled slowly.

You don’t remove a threat, he thought. You repurpose it.

Nathan didn’t need to disappear right away. He needed to become a lesson.

David stood and walked to the window, watching the dark shapes of campus buildings blur together.

Skye hated being controlled. She hated orders. She hated being used.

So David never ordered her.

Instead, he planted seeds.

A quiet comment here. A warning there. A carefully framed truth—Nathan was digging too deep. Nathan was going to get hurt. Nathan was going to expose things that would ruin people Skye cared about.

He let Skye come to her own conclusions.

By the time David suggested that Nathan was a liability, she was already thinking it.

By the time he implied that someone had to stop him, she was already scared of what would happen if no one did.

David closed his eyes briefly.

Guilt is heavier than obedience, he thought. And it lasts longer.

When Skye eventually did what she did—when her hands shook and her heart broke and she told herself she had no choice—David would be there.

Not to comfort her.

To own her.

Because once someone kills for you, they don’t belong to themselves anymore.

David turned back to his desk and shut the folder.

“Nathan,” he murmured softly, almost regretful. “You were never the problem.”

He reached for his pen and began writing Skye’s name at the top of a fresh page.

David paused, pen hovering just above the paper.

Skye’s name stared back at him, ink still fresh, like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

He didn’t need to write instructions. He wrote angles. Pressure points. Emotional leverage disguised as concern. He mapped out conversations the way a general mapped terrain—where to push, where to retreat, where to let the enemy think they were winning.

Skye would never respond to force. But fear? Fear wrapped in righteousness? That she understood.

David flipped the page and wrote Nathan’s name again, this time circling it.

He imagined the moment it would click for her—the realization that Nathan wasn’t just curious, he was dangerous. That his questions could get people hurt. That his kindness was a liability. He imagined the tremor in her hands, the sick certainty in her gut.

She would hate herself for what she’d do.

And she would never forgive him for putting her in that position.

That was fine.

Hatred could be redirected. Guilt could not.

David closed the notebook and slid it into the drawer, locking it with a soft, final click. The night outside remained still, ignorant of the small decisions that would soon ripple outward.

Before turning off the light, his gaze drifted to another paper on his desk—thicker, newer, still unfinished.

Aurelia.

“Rowan has to go.. After Nathan” he muttered to himself.

Soon, he thought.

(Chapter Twenty Eight: More Than One)

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(BACK AT SCHOOL)

The cafeteria is full of people, from “The Queens”, to the nerds. Brad and Chad strut in, as per-usual. 

Skye sat at her usual table, picking at a slice of pizza that looked more like rubber than food. Across the room, “The Queens” were already holding court — glossy hair, perfect eyeliner, and voices that could slice through Chad when he saw Brielle in hot clothing.  

At the other end, the chess club was locked in what looked like a life-or-death match over a game clock. The band kids were tapping on the tables with pencils, probably making a beat no one else understood.  

Then, of course, came Brad and Chad.  

They strutted in like they owned the place — varsity jackets, smug grins, and the kind of confidence only two guys named Brad and Chad could have.  

“Yo, Skye!” Brad called out, his voice way too loud. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”He said, while tripping and falling over nothing. Faceplanting on the floor.

“Wow,” she muttered. “How observant.”  

Chad smirked. “Trouble with the lover boy, right~?”  

Skye’s stomach twisted. She forced a laugh, shaking her head. “No, just tired.”  

They didn’t need to know anything more — not about Rowan, not about the Halos, not about the knife through her window. No one would believe her anyway.  

As they wandered off to harass someone else, Skye sighed, resting her head on her hand. Across the cafeteria, she spotted David.  

He was sitting alone.  

That was new.  

Usually, he was surrounded by people — the effortless charmer, always smiling. But now, he wasn’t smiling at all. His eyes met hers for a brief second, and the corner of his mouth lifted in something that wasn’t quite a grin.  

It was sharper. Colder.  

Like he knew something she didn’t.  

Her chest tightened. She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her food.  

“Skye?”  

It was her friend — Trinity, sliding into the seat across from her. “You okay? You’ve been staring into space for, like, five minutes.”

Skye hadn’t spoken to her best friend in a hot minute ever since all that mess started.  

Skye blinked. “Yeah, just tired.”  

“You sure? You look like you saw a ghost.”  

Skye forced a small smile. “Something like that.”  

Trinity eyed her skeptically, then shrugged and started talking about the upcoming dance — something Skye normally would’ve cared about. But now, her attention kept drifting back toward David.  

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was talking to someone who had just sat beside him — a guy Skye didn’t recognize. Dressed in all black, hands covered in rings, a faint tattoo curling up his neck.  

And when the guy turned his head slightly, Skye saw it.  

A small mark — barely visible, right behind his ear.  

A halo.  

Black ink.  

Her heart dropped into her stomach.  

She looked away immediately, her hands shaking under the table. How did they get into the school? Where’s Rowan? Are they after me? Trinity was still talking, oblivious to her friend's inner turmoil.  

“Skye? Are you even listening?”  

Skye jumped a little but forced out a laugh that didn’t sound like hers. “Yeah, totally. Just… thinking about what I’m gonna wear.”  

But her mind was miles away — replaying that glimpse of black ink, that look from David.  

Maybe Rowan was right.  

Maybe the fire she thought she’d escaped had followed her back to school.

“I got to go..”Skye said, her voice shaking slightly as she stood up, and left Trinity alone.

Skye walked to the corner where Rowan sat, and sat in front of him, resting her head in her arms as he grinned.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Rowan said, trying not to laugh.

“I- shut up. I saw something.”

“What did you see?”

“That guy with David.. he also has a tattoo. The one all the Black halos have.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened, as he looked at the guy next to David, and saw the tattoo.

 ”There’s more that go here..?”Skye  asked, looking up at Rowan

“Apparently.. I think most of the gang goes here. They use David as bait to find more people to taunt for fun.”Rowan said, still looking at David, as more people with the same tattoo went to sit there.

“Then I’m…”

“Just their plaything, an unfortunate soul that happened to get caught in their trap.”

It wasn’t like it was new news but it still seemed to make Skye’s head spin, tired eyes staring at the table below her. Before she could start spiraling again, the Queens walked up to her table and Brielle had that kind of dangerous smile plastered on her face again.

“We need to talk.”

Brielle signaled her to follow as she started walking without a response. Skye looked back at a concerned Rowan before walking off with them

(Chapter Twenty Nine: More Than One)

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(BACK AT SCHOOL)

The cafeteria is full of people, from “The Queens”, to the nerds. Brad and Chad strut in, as per-usual. 

Skye sat at her usual table, picking at a slice of pizza that looked more like rubber than food. Across the room, “The Queens” were already holding court — glossy hair, perfect eyeliner, and voices that could slice through Chad when he saw Brielle in hot clothing.  

At the other end, the chess club was locked in what looked like a life-or-death match over a game clock. The band kids were tapping on the tables with pencils, probably making a beat no one else understood.  

Then, of course, came Brad and Chad.  

They strutted in like they owned the place — varsity jackets, smug grins, and the kind of confidence only two guys named Brad and Chad could have.  

“Yo, Skye!” Brad called out, his voice way too loud. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”He said, while tripping and falling over nothing. Faceplanting on the floor.

“Wow,” she muttered. “How observant.”  

Chad smirked. “Trouble with the lover boy, right~?”  

Skye’s stomach twisted. She forced a laugh, shaking her head. “No, just tired.”  

They didn’t need to know anything more — not about Rowan, not about the Halos, not about the knife through her window. No one would believe her anyway.  

As they wandered off to harass someone else, Skye sighed, resting her head on her hand. Across the cafeteria, she spotted David.  

He was sitting alone.  

That was new.  

Usually, he was surrounded by people — the effortless charmer, always smiling. But now, he wasn’t smiling at all. His eyes met hers for a brief second, and the corner of his mouth lifted in something that wasn’t quite a grin.  

It was sharper. Colder.  

Like he knew something she didn’t.  

Her chest tightened. She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her food.  

“Skye?”  

It was her friend — Trinity, sliding into the seat across from her. “You okay? You’ve been staring into space for, like, five minutes.”

Skye hadn’t spoken to her best friend in a hot minute ever since all that mess started.  

Skye blinked. “Yeah, just tired.”  

“You sure? You look like you saw a ghost.”  

Skye forced a small smile. “Something like that.”  

Trinity eyed her skeptically, then shrugged and started talking about the upcoming dance — something Skye normally would’ve cared about. But now, her attention kept drifting back toward David.  

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was talking to someone who had just sat beside him — a guy Skye didn’t recognize. Dressed in all black, hands covered in rings, a faint tattoo curling up his neck.  

And when the guy turned his head slightly, Skye saw it.  

A small mark — barely visible, right behind his ear.  

A halo.  

Black ink.  

Her heart dropped into her stomach.  

She looked away immediately, her hands shaking under the table. How did they get into the school? Where’s Rowan? Are they after me? Trinity was still talking, oblivious to her friend's inner turmoil.  

“Skye? Are you even listening?”  

Skye jumped a little but forced out a laugh that didn’t sound like hers. “Yeah, totally. Just… thinking about what I’m gonna wear.”  

But her mind was miles away — replaying that glimpse of black ink, that look from David.  

Maybe Rowan was right.  

Maybe the fire she thought she’d escaped had followed her back to school.

“I got to go..”Skye said, her voice shaking slightly as she stood up, and left Trinity alone.

Skye walked to the corner where Rowan sat, and sat in front of him, resting her head in her arms as he grinned.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Rowan said, trying not to laugh.

“I- shut up. I saw something.”

“What did you see?”

“That guy with David.. he also has a tattoo. The one all the Black halos have.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened, as he looked at the guy next to David, and saw the tattoo.

 ”There’s more that go here..?”Skye  asked, looking up at Rowan

“Apparently.. I think most of the gang goes here. They use David as bait to find more people to taunt for fun.”Rowan said, still looking at David, as more people with the same tattoo went to sit there.

“Then I’m…”

“Just their plaything, an unfortunate soul that happened to get caught in their trap.”

It wasn’t like it was new news but it still seemed to make Skye’s head spin, tired eyes staring at the table below her. Before she could start spiraling again, the Queens walked up to her table and Brielle had that kind of dangerous smile plastered on her face again.

“We need to talk.”

Brielle signaled her to follow as she started walking without a response. Skye looked back at a concerned Rowan before walking off with them

(Chapter Thirty: What's Left Behind)

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(Rowan’s Perspective)

Rowan shut the door behind him, the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place echoing louder than it should have. For the first time all day, the house was quiet. too quiet.  

He dropped his bag by the couch and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. His knuckles were still sore from earlier. He hadn’t even realized how tight he’d been clenching his fists until now.  

“Row?”  

The small voice came from down the hall. He turned immediately.  

Rachel Hale. She is Rowan’s little sister! Her hair is long and curly, and was also dark auburn. Her eyes are light blue, and she is always smiling. She is always wearing bright colors, and patterns. She also has a dog tag necklace, one that matched Rowan’s. She looks like Rowan too, facial structure and everything. But of course there's the minor differences. She's too soft to be a threat, and is always looking out for Rowan. But there was one problem, Rowan was raising her. Since their dad died, and their mom was (not a good person)- they moved out to a small apartment.

Rachel stood there, hair messy from sleep, her favorite blanket dragging across the floor behind her. She blinked up at him with sleepy eyes that were the exact same shade of blue as their mother’s.  

“Hey, kid,” he said softly, his voice changing instantly — softer, gentler. “What’re you doing up? It’s late.”  

She rubbed her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep. You weren’t home.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, crouching down to her level. “Sorry about that.‘Had to check on someone.”  

“Skye?”  

Rowan hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Skye.”  

Rachel gave him a knowing look — the kind that only a little sister could get away with. “You like her.”  

He almost laughed. “You shouldn’t be talking like that. You’re nine.”  

“I’m ten.”  

“Right. My mistake.” He smiled faintly and ruffled her hair.  

Rachel frowned, brushing his hand away. “You’re worried about her.”  

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “She’s… in some trouble.”  

Rachel’s eyes softened. “Like before?”  

That word — before — hit him in the chest like a hammer.  

“Not like before,” he said quickly, forcing his tone steady. “She’s just mixed up with the wrong people.”  

He stood up, moving toward the kitchen. “Go back to bed, Rach. I’ll make pancakes tomorrow, yeah?”  

“With a ton of chocolate chips?”  

He smiled. “Always.”  

She grinned, satisfied, and padded back to her room. Rowan waited until her door closed before leaning against the counter, his hands gripping the edge so tight his knuckles turned white.  

The feather. The knife. The look on Skye’s face when she realized how close danger had gotten.  

He closed his eyes. It’s happening again. 

He’d promised himself it wouldn’t. That no one else would get hurt because of him. But the second Skye came into the picture — stubborn, brave, completely unaware of what she was walking into — he knew he was already breaking that promise.  

A soft sound made him turn. Rachel was peeking out from her door again.  

“Row?”  

“Yeah?

“Are we gonna be okay?”  

He hesitated — just long enough for the silence to mean something. Then he forced a smile. “Yeah, kid. We’re gonna be fine.” though he wasn’t 100% sure.  

She nodded and disappeared again. 

~~~~(Chapter Thirty-One: Set Ablaze) ~~~~~~~~(Rowan’s perspective)

After enjoying pancakes with a butt ton of chocolate chips with his sister, Rowan promptly headed towards the old house to check on Skye. How did he always find himself taking care of girls constantly?

Rowan smiled to himself as he spotted Skye sleeping on the couch. She looked more relaxed than she had recently, the thought made his chest hurt. Rowan ultimately decided to wait for her, pulling out a cigarette pack on instinct and covering the lighter.

He knew better than to smoke inside but he couldn’t help it. He breathed slowly, closing his eyes and exhaling. Rowan hadn’t even realized he was starting to doze off, this week had been exhausting for him between the Black Halo’s and Skye’s recent troubles. 

Rowan was so lost in thought, that he didn't realize he had let the ash grow too long until it fell, glowing faintly before disappearing in the carpet. 

He stared at the ember mark on the carpet as that spot on the rug had a mark. 

“Well damn..”

Before it was too late, he stomped it out, grinding his boot on the lasting ember until it stopped glowing.  

Rowan leaned back against the wall, watching Skye sleep. Her breathing was even, calm. He thought about everything that had led them here — the gangs, the blood, the choices that twisted them both into something they weren’t supposed to be.

“Maybe,” he whispered, “this time, I can do something right.”

The thought barely left his lips before he caught it — the faintest wisp of smoke curling from the floor in front of him.

At first, he thought he imagined it. Then came the smell. It was sharp. Something was burning. He only realized when his loose grip on the cigarette gave way.

His cigarette hit the floor as he stood up fast, a flame started on the opposite side of the room. “waitwaitwait-”

The ember had caught the corner of an old curtain, the fabric blackening, then bursting into flame like it had been waiting for a reason. The old wooden house wouldn’t stand a chance against the flames even if it tried.

“Skye!”

She jolted awake, dazed. “Rowan—what’s—

“Get up!” he shouted, already yanking the curtain down, trying to smother it but it was too late. The fire consumed the fabric in mere seconds, jumping to the wall. The smoke thickened fast, crawling up the ceiling.

“Rowan, it’s spreading—”

“Yea, I could tell-” He coughed, vision blurring, as he  grabbed her hand. “Come on!”

They ran toward the door, but the fire was faster, roaring through the hallway like a living monster. The smoke was so thick now that Skye could barely see, it filled both of their lungs with a sting. She stumbled, coughing hard, and Rowan pulled her upright and to his side, his voice hoarse from the smoke.

“Go! Out the back!”

“What about you?!”

“I’ll be right behind you—”

But as he was about to tell her to move, the ceiling groaned — a low, heavy sound that made his stomach drop.

“Rowan—”

He looked up just in time to see the roof give way.

“GO, SKYE!” he shouted, shoving her through the open window as the ceiling collapsed in a shower of flame and splintered wood.

Rowan’s screams echoed through the streets.

He could barely hear her screaming his name over the pounding in his head. This wasn’t how he imagined dying, he couldn’t breathe, his nerves burned excruciatingly. It wasn’t long before the world went black and he lost consciousness.

(Chapter Thirty Two: No Promises)

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(Rowan’s Perspective)

The smell of antiseptic hit him like a truck. Everything hurt. All he could remember was the faint memories of the house caving in on top of him. All he could hear was the sound of beeping, and people talking around him. Trying to keep him alive.

They rolled him into the Hospital, and he could hear the voice of the doctor who had just entered.

“Hey b######~ what’s the tea..”the doctor said to the nurses waving his hand dramatically, flipping through Rowan’s chart. 

“Damn girl... Few broken ribs.. fractured spine… punctured lung…blah blah blah- 3RD DEGREE BURNS? And he’s still alive?”His voice was faint, distant — like it was underwater. “Okay I see you~ girl boss. Strong.”

“I mean, he flatlined most of the ride back-”

“Okay? B#### no one asked… smack”

“Can you at least try not to curse?”

“No. F### you b####.”

Rowan tried to speak, but his throat burned. Everything burned. His chest felt heavy, like someone had stacked bricks on top of it.

He opened his mouth, a croak barely escaping, his voice was broken sounding. “Skye…”

One of the nurses leaned closer. “Sir, don’t try to talk.”

He groaned, forcing one eye open. White walls. Bright lights. A ceiling that wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Skye,” he rasped again. “Where is she?”

The nurse hesitated, glancing at the doctor. The doctor sighed. “She’s fine, kid. She made it out. You didn’t. Just-.. be glad you’re still breathing.”

Relief hit him like a punch. He sank back into the bed, closing his eyes. The beeping of the monitor matched his heartbeat — uneven, stubborn, alive.

But then another voice cut through the noise — small, trembling.

“Rowan?”

He turned his head slowly. Rachel stood in the doorway, clutching a stuffed animal against her chest. Her eyes were red, her face pale.

“Rach…” His voice cracked.

She ran to him before the nurse could stop her, her small hands gripping his arm like he might disappear if she let go. “You scared me! They said you were— they said—”

He managed a weak smile. “Hey, hey… I’m okay. Promise.”

“You don’t look okay,” she said, sniffling. “You look like barbecue.”

Despite the pain, Rowan actually laughed — a short, rough sound that made his chest ache. “Yeah, thanks, kid.”

Rachel climbed onto the edge of the bed, refusing to let go of his hand. For the first time since the fire, he felt grounded.

Then the door opened again.

“Rowan.”

It was Skye. Her voice was quiet, fragile. She looked shaken — eyes puffy, hair tangled, wearing one of Rachel’s oversized hoodies.

The room went still.

He swallowed hard, unsure whether to be angry, relieved, or something in between. “You made it out,” he said finally.

She nodded. “Because of you.”

Rowan looked away. “Don’t make it sound like I did something smart.”

“You saved me,” she said, her voice cracking. “You almost died, and you’re making jokes?”

“That’s kinda my thing,” he muttered, forcing a smirk.

Skye almost smiled, but her eyes filled again. She stepped closer, her voice trembling. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He blinked, surprised. “What, save you?”

“No. Almost die.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The beeping filled the silence, steady and fragile.

Rowan exhaled slowly, squeezing Rachel’s hand with his good one.

“No promises.”He said, the sudden sound of a long, terrifying beep interrupting everyone’s thoughts. He flatlined.

(Chapter Thirty Three: Not The Same)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rowan?”  

At first, Skye thought she’d misheard the sound. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor had always been there — constant, reassuring — until it wasn’t. Now, the room was filled with a single, sharp note that didn’t stop.  

Beep.  

Then nothing.  

“Rowan!” Skye’s voice broke as she lurched forward, nearly tripping over the side of the bed. His hand was still warm. That terrified her more than anything — because it meant he’d just slipped away.  

“Help! Somebody help him!” she shouted, looking wildly toward the door.  

Rachel’s scream cut through everything. It wasn’t loud — it was small, broken, the kind of sound that only comes from real fear. She clutched the stuffed animal to her chest, eyes wide, tears spilling before she could even blink.  

“Make him stop!” Rachel cried. “He’s not moving— he’s not—”  

Two nurses burst into the room, followed by the doctor from before — still holding a coffee cup, eyes wide with shock. “Move over, let me do my job.” he barked, nearly spilling it as he set it down. “Get the crash cart!”  

Skye stumbled back, her hands trembling. She didn’t know where to look — the wires, the flashing lights, Rowan’s still chest. Rachel refused to leave his side until a nurse gently pulled her away.  

“Rachel— come here,” Skye whispered, pulling the little girl into her arms. She buried her face in Skye’s shoulder, sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe.  

Skye’s own tears came without warning. She watched helplessly as the doctors worked — the sound of the defibrillator charging filling the air like a countdown.  

“Clear!”  

Rowan’s body jerked.  

Beep.  

Nothing.  

“Again!”  

Skye squeezed Rachel tighter, whispering over and over, “He’s gonna be okay… he has to be okay…” even though she didn’t believe it.  

When the monitor finally beeped again — one slow, stubborn beat

He was alive. Barely. But alive.  

Rachel’s sobs softened into shaky breaths as Skye held her tighter. The doctor exhaled, wiping his brow. “Well damn,” he muttered. “Strong wasn’t an exaggeration.”  

Skye almost laughed through the tears. Almost.  

Because even though Rowan’s heartbeat had returned, she knew something inside him — something they couldn’t fix with a machine — had changed. His eyes had a look to them that was more cautious, fearful even, than they did before. Skye wondered if he would return as the snarky and brave person she loved.

(Chapter Thirty Four: Hoping)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Rowan’s little jumpscare, Skye and Rachel were promptly kicked out by the doctor, who said he needed rest and they probably needed some too. He was right, even if Skye didn’t want to admit it, this week had been hectic to say the least and the mental strain took a heavy toll on her.

    Before they had been kicked, Rowan managed to mutter to Skye to take care of Rachel at their house until he got better. Of course she couldn’t refuse him, a man who was quite literally teetering on the edge of death.

Previously, she told her family that she was staying at a friend's house due to… complications, and despite their protests she went on anyway. It was the same now, she kept in touch with them often so it wasn’t difficult to tell them she was going to take care of her friend's little sister. 

She was also given permission to pause on school to prioritize her and Rachel’s wellbeing which was quite the win.

Skye flopped on the couch next to a reading Rachel.

“I’m exhausted… you're lucky you don’t have to deal with high school yet.”

“Yeah.”

Rachel didn’t bother to look up. She seemed to not dislike Skye, but didn’t have any particular attachment to her either. 

“...When is Rowan coming back?”The question surprised Skye as she hesitated to answer, Rachel seemed to love her older brother and it hurt Skye to see her worry so much considering she was still just a child.

“The doctor said… he was unsure.”The best thing she could do right now was be honest with Rachel. Besides, life without her brother was enough to deal with already and she didn’t need lies to be comforted either, Skye could tell. Rachel didn’t respond and instead stared at the ground, her expression was unreadable.

Skye glanced toward the clock on the wall. The second hand ticked too loudly in the silence, each click a reminder of how slowly time moved when you were waiting for someone.

“You hungry?” she asked finally, pushing herself up with a groan.

Rachel shrugged, flipping another page in her book without looking up. “Not really.”

“Liar,” Skye said softly, trying for a smile. “I heard your stomach growl like, five minutes ago.”

That earned a faint snort from the girl, though she quickly hid it behind her book.

Skye went into the kitchen, rummaging through Rowan’s near-empty cabinets. “Okay, he seriously needs to learn what a grocery store is,” she muttered, pulling out a can of soup and shaking her head. “This man lives like a raccoon.”

When she looked back, Rachel was watching her — curious, cautious, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to smile.

“Rowan used to say that too,” Rachel said quietly. “About Mom.”

Skye froze mid-stir, the spoon clattering softly against the pot. She turned around slowly. “What do you mean?”

Rachel’s eyes softened, but her voice stayed small. “She used to make soup when he was sad. He’d complain it was ‘water with vegetables,’ but he always finished the bowl.”

Skye’s chest tightened. “Sounds like him,” she said, forcing a small smile.

They ate together in silence after that — Rachel at the table, Skye leaning against the counter, lost in thought. Every few minutes, her eyes drifted to her phone, half-hoping for a text from the hospital saying he’d woken up again. Nothing.

When Rachel finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “You think he’s gonna be okay, right?”

Skye hesitated, meeting her gaze. “Yeah,” she said softly. “He’s stubborn. He’ll pull through.”

Rachel nodded slowly, but her eyes said she wasn’t convinced.

That night, when Rachel had gone to bed, Skye sat awake on the couch, staring at the faint orange glow of the streetlight outside. The quiet was too much — every creak of the house sounded like a memory.

She picked up Rowan’s jacket from the back of the chair and held it close, breathing in the faint smell of smoke and something that was just him.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” she whispered into the fabric

(Chapter Thirty Five: One Last Time) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 2nd, 1990 

Skye couldn’t sleep.

How could she, when Rowan was on the brink of death and she was completely fine? This whole incident was her fault, if only she hadn’t panicked, if only she had been truthful…

The day of the fire, Skye woke up early and found a pack of cigarettes lying on the table by Rowan who must have left them there by mistake. Due to all the stress from everything, Skye had recently picked up smoking as a way to calm her nerves and hadn’t told Rowan because she knew he would make her quit. She got up slowly, drowsy because it was still early morning and quickly lit the end of the cigarette, exhaling slowly.

She hadn’t realized that she lost track of time because she soon heard the creaking of footsteps down the hallway. The same light footsteps that belonged to Rowan. Skye panicked, she wasn’t thinking straight and dropped the cigarette behind the couch and onto the carpet below. She flopped down on the couch, pretending to sleep as she heard him. It wasn’t until she smelled the burning carpet that she“woke up”and we all know what happened afterwards.

The guilt kept her awake every night, it weighed heavily on her mind so much so, she couldn’t bear to look at another cigarette let alone smoke again. 

Skye sat on the couch lost in thought when she heard the shattering of glass, the shards flying everywhere. But it wasn’t a random hard object this time, it was a knife, a dagger that shot through and narrowly missed her face.

“What the hell??”

Skye yelled on instinct and something else flew so quick she could barely see it as she felt a sharp pain at the back of her head. Before she knew it, everything went dark and her face met the ground.

The next hours were hazy, Skye could hear voices. deep, dangerous ones. Where am I? Who are these people?

She couldn’t remember what came next but she did wake up eventually, her legs and arms tied to a chair. Instantly she pulled against the restraints to see if they would come loose when a dark figure stepped out into the light. Skye’s stomach twisted.

“David? Why.. Some part of Skye hadn’t fully believed that David himself was after her, maybe it was just his gang but.. his smirk was twisted, it wasn’t like the smile that charmed everyone around him, the one she was charmed by.

“Surprised? Oh come on, I know I was pretty convincing but this is just sad. Oh and thanks for keeping my little secret to yourself.”Skye’s blood boiled, she can’t believe she fell for someone so traitorious. No, focus, she didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

“What do you want?” Skye’s voice hardened as she glared at him.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

“You didn’t ans-”

She froze as a person was dragged forward, she recognized that voice even though their head was bagged. As the bag was taken off Skye couldn’t breathe, it was her brother Nathan, and he looked pretty beat up.

“Oh my god, Nathan!”

“Skye? What the hell are you doing here??”

“I should be asking you that!”

Their conversation was cut short at the sound of David clearing his throat.

“I didn’t kidnap you two for a family reunion you know.”

He looked pissed, David never seemed to like it when people ignored him even with his normal charming attitude.

He pushed his hair back and grinned like a psycho, and Skye could tell something was about to go extremely wrong. He pulled out a pistol from his jacket and Skye’s blood went cold as he aimed it to the side of Nathan’s head.

“HEY!.. W-what are you doing..?”

She shouted, Nathan looked as pale as a ghost.

“Don’t worry I won’t shoot him.”

He lifted the gun as he nodded to some guys on the side and they untied her bindings.

Her immediate response was to flee but two of them kept a tight grip on her arms.

“You will.”

The words felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from, this can’t be real. There was no way Skye could shoot Nathan, her one and only brother. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. She’d rather do anything else.

“Or, your brother can kill you and Rowan.”

“WHAT-?! I’m not killing anyone!” Nathan said, his voice strained from the pain of his hands being tied up, before he looked up at Skye.“Skye..”

“Nathan.. no.”

“Skye. You have so much to live for.. please.. I don’t want you to die.”

David looked between the two of them, a sadistic smile on his face as he did. “C’mon Skye. Do it.” And he tossed the gun at Skye, as she caught it

“I won’t.. I won’t!”

“Skye! Just do it! If you don’t do this, he’ll kill all of us. It’s better this way.”

“I can’t!”

Skye’s vision became blurry with tears as she struggled to get free desperately.

“Skye just do it.”

“I-I can’t..”

Nathan paused and gritted his teeth before speaking. His voice threatening,

“I knew you’re just a pathetic little b####.”

“Wha-“

“I wish you were never born as my sister, this world is better without you so I’ll just kill myself. I’d rather die than live with you.”

Skye turned her hands into fists as she gripped the gun tighter walking forward. She pointed it to the side of his head.

“Take it back. Right now.”

“Make me b####.”

His eyes were hardened with hatred as a red haze filled her mind..

Suddenly..

BANG

He heard the sound of an empty shell clattering to the ground.

Nathan’s body went limp, blood staining a bittersweet smile on his face that will last for the rest of eternity.