Vice

Twenty Three

RECAP:

Ray's eyes widened, searching her gaze.

"Four."

His eyes flicked to James.

"Three."

Then to Ryder.

"Two."

Her finger shifted onto the trigger.

"O-"

"REID! OLIVER REID!"

She pulled the trigger.

Ray's eyes were squeezed shut, his entire body haunched over as if it would save him from the blast.

The gun clicked as the firing pin hit an empty chamber.

His eyes snapped open and he stared up at her in disbelief.

"I-it was empty?"

Thea tossed the gun back onto the table, "You're not worth the ammo."

James eyes followed her as she walked towards the door, their depths held a mix between surprise, admiration, and something unpleasant- leftover from the night before.

"Where are you going?" Ryder turned to her as she walked past him.

"Trevor asked me to go with him to see his parents."

"They won't be done training until twelve."

"I'm going to need to convince them I'm not a cold hearted gang member." Thea glanced down at her sweater, which was now splattered with blood, then at her hands which were painted in crimson, "Something tells me that this isn't the way to achieve that."

She cast one last look at Ray's defeated form, his head hung lowly over his chest; more from shame than the pain. The sight almost made a twinge of satisfaction flutter through her stomach, almost.

****

Heavy breaths filled the small room, a wet hand braced her body against the tile as she forced her breathing to slow to a normal pace. She closed her eyes against the cold water, wishing it could wash away memories along with the dirt and grime.

Her knuckles were blue against the white tile. Red stained water seeped over the porcelain beneath her feet.

She watched with interest as it swirled around, then disappeared down the drain in a small whirlpool, mirroring the thoughts rattling around in her brain.

Only the thoughts had no where to go, no drain to disappear into. They just kept bouncing against her consciousness, begging for her undivided attention.

It was for Miles.

For Trevor.

Her hand clenched into a fist.

It needed to be done.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

It needed to be done. You never would have worked. He would have left.

She pounded her fist against the wall, shaking the tiles in their molding.

Trevor needs you, HE doesn't.

Pressing her forehead to the cool tile, a shiver traveled down her spine.

And what do you need?