Chapter 5
Echoes of Violence
The city breathed a damp, metallic scent tonight, a familiar perfume of exhaust fumes and desperation. I leaned against the cold brick of an alley, the damp seeping through my worn leather jacket. The streetlights bled neon into the puddles, painting fractured rainbows that did little to cheer the gnawing in my gut. It was the quiet hours, the ones where the city held its breath, waiting for the dawn. But for me, these were the loudest hours.
The ghosts were always loudest in the quiet. They whispered, they hissed, they clawed at the edges of my vision. Tonight, it was Sarah. Her wide, terrified eyes, the way her breath hitched when she realized there was no escape. Her name, a soft, broken sound on my lips. Sarah. The memory was a shard of glass lodged deep, a constant ache I tried to drown with the sweet burn of cheap liquor and the acrid smoke of whatever I could get my hands on.
Jazzy found me there, her footsteps a soft whisper on the wet asphalt. She always knew where to find me when the shadows started to press in. She understood the weight. She carried her own, I knew, buried deep beneath that fierce, bright exterior.
Keep reading "Echoes of Violence"
Open the same story in AIBookCraft. Later chapters may require an active subscription.
Free on iOS & Android · No signup to read