Dawn ran on autopilot. The rage and pain of her loss driving the downward thrust of the bat in her hands. The man below her had helped take the person most important to her. He held Ben down when he was shot in the head. She had been beaten and helpless to do anything but watch.

She changed the trajectory of her slash from the man’s body to hit his face. The bat made purchase with his jaw with a sharp crack. Blood splattered as his cheek burst open with the force of the hit and a few teeth were knocked loose.

She lifts it up once more for a decisive blow when the man’s gun, that she’d knocked away earlier, is pointed right at her. Time seems to slow as their eyes meet and a thrill shoots through her. This is what she was waiting for. But the hardness leaves his eyes and he lets the gun go. The clatter of it hitting the ground causes confusion to flicker through Dawn’s mind. Why would he do that?

Then she sees the look on his face and it clicks into place. That look in his eyes is the one she’s seen too many times when looking in the mirror. He’s daring her to finish it. He wants her to.

That confusion turns to red hot anger. How dare he? He can’t regret what he’s done now. He already helped take Ben away. It’s too late. For a split second she considers slamming the bat down over and over, making him pay for what he did. Giving into the beast inside of her that craves the brutality and claws at her chest to be let out. But just as quickly as the thought flickers through her mind it vanishes and an overwhelming nausea takes its place.

She’s so sick of herself.

She hesitates for a moment, looking like she’s about to bring the bat down, before she lets it go. A ringing overtakes her ears, blocking out the noise of the bat hitting the ground behind her.

She grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut, anger threatening to explode, as she starts to pace. Her left arm curls into a fist by her side while her right palm comes to rest on her forehead, nails digging into her scalp. Dawn wants it to hurt. Needs it to hurt. Her anger screams for an outlet. It’s too much.

She whirls on her heel to stare down the man on the floor.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” She growls the words through her gritted teeth.

The man’s eyes glance away and he remains silent.

“Why didn’t you shoot?!”

Her head starts to pound as pressure builds from anger too big for her body. Tears fall down her face that she didn’t realize had even sprung to her eyes. Anger at her own weakness surges within her, pushing her further into her spiral.

Both hands come to rest on the sides of her head, pushing against the pulsing in her skull.

She increases the pressure until the pain grants some clarity to her thoughts.

A bitter chuckle falls from her lips.

Her shoulders start to shake. It’s almost as if something broke and a switch had flipped.

She flings her hands out to the side, palms facing the ceiling, and a crooked grin contorts her face.

“Are you afraid someone will come around and try to avenge me too? No one will. I don’t have anyone! You helped kill the last person who gave a shit about me!”

Her voice rises in pitch as her desperation seeps through. The intent behind her mission was clear. This wasn’t about revenge. Not really.

She starts to laugh harder. Words tumbling out that are little more than incoherent pieces of the rushing thoughts in her head.

“Of course.”

The laughing turns to full blown cackling.

“Of course this is what happens. I’m such an idiot.”

She takes a step backwards and her legs buckle. Dawn falls to the floor, slamming her tailbone onto the ground while her back hits the soft sofa in the middle of the room. A jolt of pain shoots through her but it feels distant like it’s floating just out of reach. She’s aware of its presence but she can’t reach out and touch it.

The unbridled rage that was a blazing inferno inside her snuffs out in an instant and all that’s left in its place is that bone deep tiredness that feels like it will never go away. The kind sleeping won’t fix and feels like it will always be a part of you.

Her eyes unfocus as the helplessness washes over her.

Nothing was ever going to change. She would always end up right back here. There was an inevitability to this cycle of loss, mistakes, and pain that she found so funny in the moment.

It’s as if the world wanted to make her live with the ghosts of all those that had died because of her.

Dawn struggles to gasp air into her lungs between bouts of manic laughter and her sides begin to hurt.

She vaguely registers the man sitting up and the gun being cocked but she doesn’t care. She leans her head back onto the cushions, nose pointing to the water stained ceiling, and lets her eyes fall shut. She’s ready. All she wants to do is rest.

Her laughter slows in time with the ebb of energy from her body. Her will and ability to feel begin to leave her.

It takes all her energy but she manages to push three words past her lips.

“Just do it.”

The breathy chuckles peter out and she waits, focusing on the slow inhale and exhale of air from her lungs. She’s so goddamn tired. Even breathing takes too much energy and focus.

Those few minutes she sits there feel like years. The bang that would signify her final blissful moment before an eternity of rest never comes.

Her eyes creak open just slightly so she can glance down towards the man in front of her.

He’s hunched over, head on his knees, left hand tangled in his hair while his right hand limply holds the gun. He looks small, defeated. She doesn’t have the energy to startle when he breaks the silence.

“Just leave.”

She blinks slowly and slightly tilts her head to get a better look at him. The words take a second to register. When they finally do she’s left with one question.

“Why?”

He finally glances up, meeting her gaze, and she can see the dark rings under his eyes. They look almost as bad as her’s. Blood oozes from his cheek and drips from his chin onto the wooden floor. The quiet noise it makes is the only thing that breaks the silence between them.

He opens his mouth and tries to speak but his voice breaks. He closes his mouth and swallows down the lump in his throat before trying again.

“I’m tired of all…” He gestures at his surroundings and the gun in his hand vaguely “this. I can’t do it anymore and you clearly can’t either.”

Dawn breathes in deeply and sighs. He’s right. She can’t do this anymore.

“Why did you drop the gun?”

She knows the answer but she wants to hear him say it. She wants the confirmation.

“The same reason you dropped the bat.”

She should probably just leave but she wants any little bit of closure she can find even if she is just grasping at grains of sand in the wind. She may already suspect the answers but she needs to hear it.

He seems willing to talk so she may as well take advantage.

“Why didn’t you two kill me that day? You should have. I was the one who pissed you all off, not Ben.”

Dawn pushes herself up so she can sit up straighter. The awkward movement causes her shoulder to twinge. It still hasn’t healed fully from being dislocated that day.

“Glen wanted to send a message. It was obvious you didn’t care much for your own life but you clearly cared about him.”

She knew that was the answer she was going to get but hearing it out loud still hurt. Her heart squeezed. It felt like it had been bruised.

In a sick twisted way she was relieved to hear it. To know she was in part to blame. It felt weirdly vindicating to know her self hatred was well founded rather than misdirected.

Her vision blurred but she was determined not to let the tears fall. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t show that kind of weakness.

“He didn’t deserve that.” Dawn’s voice comes out hard and quiet.

He looked like he had been slapped and had the decency to look ashamed. Dawn continues.

“The last thing he asked of me was to always remember him. He was about to get adopted. He was so excited but then… He really didn’t deserve that. He was too good .” The ‘for me’ remains unspoken. He was too good for Dawn and he was too good for this world.

“I didn’t… didn’t know. I…” his voice cracks again and Dawn can’t feel anything towards him, let alone sympathy. All that’s left after this admission is a hollowed out feeling like someone scraped out all her insides leaving her just a shell.

Dawn levels the man with a glare. Her ocean eyes pierce into his making sure these next words hit.

“I don’t care. I will never forgive you.”

His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his head away. His lips are pressed into a thin line that must be painful considering his injuries.

Dawn heaves herself to her feet, the pain of the last few hours finally making itself known as her body throbs in protest. She pushes it to the back of her mind as she walks towards the door. The man doesn’t acknowledge the movement, he makes no effort to move.

Dawn couldn’t care less at this point. She’s so tired that she can’t muster up the energy to feel anything right now. When she gets to the doorway she pauses, looking at the darkened stairway, and realizes she doesn’t know how to keep living without her anchor.

A groan reverberates behind her which is all the push she needs to move through the entryway. She’ll just have to do what she’s done her entire life up until this point- put one foot in front of the other and try her best to survive. It isn’t living but it’s the best she can do with the hand she’s been dealt in life.

The first step creaks as she starts down the stairs.

There’s so much that she’ll always be forced to remember and so little she’ll be able to forget.