― 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆.
❝ how do you make a monster
stop feeling so monstrous?
you give her something
she can hold in her palms
without crushing.
you give her something sweet,
and tell her to keep it.
...
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LOST IN FIRE (book three). °• CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE •°
" WHAT HAVE I DONE? "
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Anger could be a minor problem. That's what it had always been for Harley. She never had a temper and it took a lot to enrage her. She was the opposite of her brother. Earth took advantage of that. It took every bit of sunlight she had left in her overly sized heart before destroying it. The red sun brought out everything she never felt. Fury, guilt... And it made them powerful. It was too much for her to fight off. It was unlike anything she's ever felt before. Harley doesn't feel an ounce of either emotion when she stirs from her curled position on the ground. All she felt was numb. But then that faded before it's replaced with one - guilt.
Everything Harley did to end up where she was now filled her memories. She lets out a shocked gasp that brings a pang to her skull. She raises her arm to touch the back of her head, but the chain connecting to her wrist holds her limb back. Then Harley remembers the blood. She ignores her rising headache to scramble so she can stand and stares straight in the mirror, expecting to see the drying liquid still smeared across her face.
But it isn't there. All Harley sees is her skin, paling from where it had once been red. The mask was gone. She wasn't even sporting any braids like she thought. She cautiously looks away to glance at her hands. Those, however, were a different story. They were tinted light pink. But Harley knows it isn't her blood, nor Octavia's. It's Murphy's.
Harley suddenly remembers her screaming, "I won't let you kill me!" a second before she attacked him with a knife. She cut his arm. She stabbed him in the shoulder. She nearly plunged the blade into his chest. And she doesn't even know if he's still alive. Guilt swallowed her whole. Harley's lips part before her jaw fully drops, the tears that swelled in her eyes, and the undeniable need to find her brother filled her.
"Oh my God," she whispers in horror. "What have I done?"
Her head whips, startled, when someone lets out a soft, "Harley?" But it's only Emori. She looks equally as horrified with less rage than either of them held before. Echo is still there, unconscious on a small mattress.
But Harley stares at Emori, desperately begging, "Please, tell me I didn't kill him," she cries. "Tell me he's okay - "
The doorknob shifts before Emori can answer. Harley holds her arms up to brace herself, but then she drops them. If it was Murphy, or Bellamy, returning to kill her, she wouldn't make an attempt to defend her life, knowing it'd be what she deserved. But it isn't either of them. It's the last person she expected to see - Octavia.
